


Bait!

by wendymr



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: M/M, Shameless Use of Undercover as Gay Trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1688804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymr/pseuds/wendymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Hathaway would be a real asset in this operation."</i> James wants to go undercover in an investigation of serious assaults against the LBGT community, and Robbie's not happy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as commentfic on Wendymr's LJ.

Robbie pushes the station door open with a resentful sigh. At two o’clock on a Saturday morning – on a rare weekend off – this is the last place he wants to be. And if it does turn out to be all James Hathaway’s fault, he’ll flipping murder the bloke himself, and bury the body where no-one will find it.

He was woken by a phone call half an hour ago from DI Linton’s sergeant, Deakin, who said Linton wanted him to come down to the nick “if at all possible.” Deakin had then added, “Sergeant Hathaway is here, and the DI said it would be helpful if you came.”

Helpful. Hah. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.

He’s about to take the stairs up to Linton’s office when the desk sergeant calls to him. “Inspector, DS Deakin said to tell you to go to Interview Room 3.”

He nods, but now his resentment is turning to anger. Linton has his sergeant in a bloody interview room? And without him there to talk to James first and find out what’s going on? Linton bloody better have a damn good explanation for this.

He enters the interview room without knocking. Linton’s there, sitting at the table with Deakin standing behind him – and, yes, there’s a tape running. And James is alone – the stupid sod hasn’t even had the sense to call in a Police Federation rep.

And then James turns towards him, and whatever Robbie’d been about to say to stop whatever it is that’s going on here just dries up on his lips, because the side of his sergeant’s face that had been turned away from him has a stark white bandage square in the middle of the cheek. There are obvious bruises elsewhere on James’s face, and now that he’s looking properly at the bloke he can see that James is holding himself oddly. 

He’s been beaten up. James is the victim of a crime, not the perpetrator.

He closes the door behind him with a firm shove. “Someone better tell me what’s going on here.”

Linton leans towards the tape machine. “DI Lewis has entered the room. Interview suspended at 2:12 am.”

“Interview?” He can feel himself glaring at Linton. What’s the bloke doing here, anyway? What’s a DI doing getting involved in a simple assault case?

“ _Witness_ interview, Robbie. James, would you like to brief your governor?”

James shifts in his seat, the stiffness of his bearing suggesting that he’s not completely comfortable with this. Robbie’s tempted to ask Linton and the others to leave, but clearly they already know what’s going on. He moves to the table and pulls up a chair opposite James. “Go on, Hathaway.” The words are formal, but his tone’s deliberately gentle.

After a deep breath, James looks across at him. “Earlier this evening, I was at the Castle Tavern with a friend.” Ah. The Tavern’s probably the best-known gay pub in Oxford. “I went outside for a smoke and saw three men accost another man I’d seen inside earlier.” He describes the incident, an obvious – to James – hate crime with homophobia as the motive, with the level of detached detail Robbie’d expect from a copper. “I’d already been seen, so I had to make a choice,” he adds then, “between calling Dispatch, and risking escalating the incident, or trying to intervene myself to prevent further injury to the victim, who at that point was on the ground and being severely kicked. I chose the latter option.”

_You bloody idiot,_ Robbie thinks, but he’s not going to criticise James in front of Linton. “What happened then?”

“I managed to deflect some of their focus, enough to let the victim get up and out of reach. By then, I could hear sirens, and the three suspects ran off. I tried to give chase, but unfortunately I tripped and fell.” James flushes, looking thoroughly embarrassed. 

“However,” Linton intervenes, “Sergeant Hathaway was able to give excellent descriptions of the three suspects, and we’ve circulated those to uniforms. That’s not all, though. A threat was made which we’ll be following up on.”

“Oh?” Robbie’s gaze diverts to James again. Is he in danger?

“One of them said, and I quote, _You might have survived this time, but we’ll get you poofters at the Festival. There’ll be enough of us there you won’t know what hit you._ ” James frowns in distaste.

“The Festival?” It sounds familiar, but Robbie can’t place the context.

“LGBT Festival weekend in Henley.” Robbie nods; he did know about it. It’s next weekend, isn’t it?

“I want to go undercover, sir.” James sounds utterly determined. “I would recognise those three again, and I know what to look out for generally. We need undercover officers to prevent more violence.”

“There’ll be coppers all over the place as it is, won’t there?” Robbie says, not liking the idea at all. James is already hurt; there’s no way he’ll risk the bloke getting further injuries.

“Even plainclothes, they’ll stand out a mile.” Sod it, the lad’s got his stubborn face on. He’s not going to be easy to talk out of this; Robbie’s just going to have to put his foot down. “I won’t. I can blend in much more easily.” For a split second, Robbie wonders what James means, but then the penny drops. The Tavern... James has all but said he’s gay.

“He’s got a point,” Linton says, and fuck it, the bastard’s ready to approve this. “Hathaway would be a real asset in this operation.” And, Christ, it’s Linton’s operation, isn’t it? _This_ is why Linton’s here. And next thing he’ll be taking it to Innocent, with all the arguments about why James’s involvement should be approved.

Robbie sets his jaw and eyeballs Linton. If he can’t stop James, he can bloody well make sure he’s not going in unprotected. “If you’re bound an’ determined to do this, then I’m going with Hathaway. Better two pairs of eyes than one.”

He hears a sharp intake of breath from James, but keeps his focus on Linton – who widens his eyes, then smiles slowly. “Well, Hathaway may attract our suspects’ attention more readily if he has an obvious partner. So as long as you both think you can be convincing, then I don’t see why not.”

_An obvious partner..._ What has he just got himself into? 

"I'm…" James is looking a bit shaken. "I'm sure Inspector Lewis wasn't suggesting… didn't know you meant…"

"I'm old enough to speak for meself, lad," Robbie says, giving James a gentle look. James nods and now merely looks worried and shaky instead of looking and sounding worried and shaky.

What does Robbie want exactly? He wants to protect James. True, he hadn't imagined that would involve posing as his significant other… but Linton's already determined to send James in, and Robbie is just as determined to go with him. And if this is what he needs to do, then he decides on the spot he'll do it. James has fared badly enough without him this time. If there's a chance things will go pear-shaped… and there is… Robbie needs to be there to help.

"I understand the terms," Robbie says firmly. "And I agree. We'll go in as partners, him and me."

Linton looks tickled. "Excellent." His expression smoothes over into something more businesslike. "Now. I'll be asking that you two be given time off to work exclusively on your back-stories and covers for this weekend, given that you don't have much time to prepare and we want to be thorough. As you're going to be posing as a couple, you may want to spend some additional time together working out some basics, such as what types of touch are permitted and…"

Robbie looks at James, and James looks desperately pale.

"Linton, man," Robbie says gently, "don't you think we can discuss this another time? It's late. James has been hurt. We both of us need our rest."

Linton would clearly do every bit of briefing he could think of now, but he does see the sense in Robbie's suggestion, and he nods reluctantly. "All right. But I'll expect to meet with you tomorrow to work out the details."

"Fine," Robbie says. He looks at James. "Are you ready to go, lad?"

Without a word, James nods, standing to go, arms close to his body in a self-protective gesture. Robbie wonders what James is protecting… or who he's protecting himself against.

James waits until they're in Robbie's car to speak. "You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah, I did," he says, keeping his tone casual. "We're partners, right? I'm not gonna let me partner do something risky like this without me by his side. And I've been undercover before."

"Not like this." James is staring straight ahead, through the windscreen into the dark of night. "Not having to pretend..."

"Don't think it'll be much of a hardship," Robbie says, deliberately cheerful. "Unless you'd find it...?"

"No," James says immediately, defensive. "I... but Linton's right, we need to be clear about boundaries and... and..."

"And we will, but not tonight." Robbie's firm on that. "It's already after three in the morning, an' we were both supposed to be off-duty for the next couple of days – though Linton's scuppered that with wanting to meet with us tomorrow. Let's get some sleep for what's left of the night, an' we can talk in the morning."

James nods, then seems to take stock of his surroundings. "This isn't the way to my flat."

"You can stay at mine tonight." Apart from anything else, by the time he'd have driven to James's and then back home it'd be closer to four in the morning. "Besides, it'd be as well to get used to spending time together at close quarters. Might think about spending a few nights at mine over the coming week."

James just nods without comment. 

Another thought occurs to Robbie. "D'you think the bastards who attacked you an' the other bloke realised you're a copper?"

"No." James sounds firm on that at least. "I didn't produce my warrant card or do anything to identify myself."

"Good." Robbie nods. "So maybe we'd both best keep a low profile this coming week, before the festival, in case they're still around Oxford. Well, a low profile as coppers, anyway."

James glances at him, looking wary and uncertain again. Bugger.

Robbie sighs. "James, I know I got myself into this without so much as a by your leave. I didn't want you going through this alone. But I hope you know I'll do anything I can to make you comfortable with this. It wasn't…" He pauses. "I never meant to embarrass you. That's not why I'm doing this."

James looks at him for a long moment, then nods. "I know."

Robbie nods. "So. Back to mine, and I promise not another word about this tonight. We can start thinking about what we need to do tomorrow."

James looks a bit relieved. "That…sounds better. Thank you."

Robbie doesn't say it, of course, but what he thinks is, _Lucky they didn't hurt you worse. I'd've had to find them then, and I'm not as diplomatic as you._

When they arrive at Robbie's flat, Robbie is about to ask if James needs anything when he hears the telltale sound of James flopping onto the sofa. He glances over to see James sprawled across the furniture, eyes closed, letting out a sigh.

With a warm look at James, Robbie turns off the light, slipping off his shoes before he pads to his bedroom. 

"Goodnight, lad," he whispers.

* * *

In the morning, Robbie quietly comes into the living-room to see if James is up. The lad's still out cold on the sofa, the blanket Robbie had thrown over him last night still covering him. Robbie starts to back away, but treads on a creaky floorboard, and a moment later James blinks awake. "Wha' time is it?"

"Almost nine." 

"Crap." James swings into a sitting position, allowing Robbie a clear view of the bruises on his face. There's not much of his face that isn't covered by darkening marks or scratches.

"That must hurt," Robbie says, moving closer to James. He stops himself as he realises he was actually about to reach out and touch the lad's face. What was he thinking?

James shrugs, then winces. "Actually, if you have some paracetamol..."

"Can do better than that. Why don't you go an' have a long, hot shower, and when you come out I'll have breakfast ready. And paracetamol." James glances down at his crumpled and stained clothes. "You're in luck," Robbie adds. "Last time you stayed the night, you left a change of clothes here. I've put your bag in the bathroom."

"Thanks." James disappears, rubbing his eyes and wincing again, and Robbie starts to get breakfast ready.

It's fifteen minutes before James reappears, hair damp and spiky, and he's unshaven – Robbie's not sure whether that's due to reluctance to use Robbie's razor or because it would've been too painful.

"This is... Thank you, sir," he says as he sits. And Robbie can see the precise moment when James remembers what they're supposed to be talking about today, because even with the bruises his face goes pink.

They can't avoid it for ever, though. "S'pose we'd best start figuring out our... relationship," Robbie suggests, bringing two mugs of coffee to the table.

James nods, face still flushed. He takes the mug of coffee and curves his hands around it to warm them. "I suppose we should work out the basics. How long have we been together?"

"Let's keep it simple," Robbie suggests. "Close to the truth as possible. We can say we met when we actually met. We just have to decide if we were immediately attracted or if it went from friendship to more."

"I like beginning with friendship," James murmurs. "More convincing."

Robbie nods. "Right. When did we become a couple?"

"A few years ago," James says. "You had a close call at work. Unexpected danger. It made me realise how I really felt about you."

"And I felt the same but hadn't wanted to say," Robbie says.

James looks at Robbie, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Did you?"

Robbie doesn't know if they're in their characters or not. It's a dangerous game, this. But he reaches out and gently touches James's hand with his fingertips. "Course I did."

James turns his hand over to hold Robbie's. His hand is a little bit cold, and Robbie's grip tightens instinctively to try to warm him. "In the matter of touch… I suspect I'm more comfortable with open affection than you are."

Robbie had a difficult time thinking of James as openly affectionate, but… he almost wanted to see it now that James had said. "I'm old-fashioned, me."

James nods, that slight smile still on his face and in his eyes. "I tease you about that."

Robbie looks down at their joined hands. "You have to remember… when I was a lad, you could be arrested for it."

James says nothing, but his grip on Robbie's hand tightens.

"So," Robbie says after a bit, "holding hands is okay."

James nods. "When I'm... with someone, I also might put my arm around them when we're walking or sitting together."

Robhie nods as well. "I can do that. Or you can do it to me, since you're taller."

"Then there's... names. With respect, sir," James adds, and gives Robbie a slightly sheepish frown, "we won't be very convincing if I call you sir."

"Course not." Robbie smothers a grin. "I like pet names meself. Could call you my bonny lad."

"Yes, _darling_." James's tone is reproving. "You realise we'll need to stay in Henley? Sharing a room?"

"Nah. Really? You mean we can't get separate rooms?" Robbie grins. It's amusing to wind the lad up; he doesn't often get the chance. "Course I realise that. You'd better book that sooner rather than later, hadn't you?"

"I will."

"All right. And you'd best tell me how I should dress. Don't want to look like an off-duty copper, an' I'd rather not look like Boy George either."

James actually grins. "Perish the thought. No, I'll take you shopping. We'll have you looking like a perfectly normal fifty-year-old bloke who happens to be gay."

"Try closer to sixty," Robbie comments dryly. "But, going back a moment, there's one thing we've not talked about doing or not doing."

"Oh?"

"Kissing."

James blushes again. "What are your thoughts on that?"

Robbie shakes his head. "Told you I'd do what you were comfortable with."

James looks at Robbie, his gaze unreadable. "I don't want the day of to be the first time we try it. First kisses always look like first kisses. We'll give ourselves away."

"Kissing practise?" Robbie hadn't expected that. "Makes me feel like a teenager."

James looks amused. "You practised kissing as a teenager?"

Robbie feels his face heat. "Didn't want to get it wrong, did I?"

"I don't think you'll get it wrong with me," James says. "That's not what it's about. It's about… knowing how we fit."

Robbie nods. "All right. D'you want to start, or…?"

James leans in gently, eyes searching Robbie's, and Robbie feels…a bit trembly. Not on the outside, none of that, but… something inside him is… nervous. Shy. Excited maybe. It's been a while. James gently cups Robbie's face in his hands, closes his eyes, and presses their mouths together.

Robbie knows he wouldn't ordinarily be doing this, but he sets his conscious thoughts aside for now. He's doing this so he's convincing… so he doesn't get James hurt or found out. He can follow his instincts in this case. And his instincts have him running a hand through James's hair and opening his mouth to James when James's tongue brushes his lips, because after all these years of nothing, he finds he is _hungry_ for the affection and intimacy in this.

It's really not that different from kissing a woman, he realises very quickly as he allows his own tongue to touch James's in a tentative caress. The only real difference, other than the faint hint of stubble around James's lips, is the hint of nicotine on James's breath – except that Val had been a smoker when they'd started going out, so it's not really that different.

And it is lovely, and it's so long since he's has this intimacy, and he's just starting to shift closer... when James pulls back. And the lad's expression is inscrutable.

"As I said," James says quietly, "We won't have a problem." He pushes his chair back and stands. "More coffee, sir?"

Robbie slumps in his chair, not even looking at James as he moves into the kitchen and puts the kettle on. Bugger it. He made a right mess of that, didn't he? Now James probably thinks he's interested in more than pretence – which he's not, of course, but what was he thinking kissing James back like that? All he had to do was make it look right. Not act like he wants to haul the bloke off to his bedroom.

Well, there's only one way to fix it. "You're right," he says, standing and looking at James, completely businesslike. "We'll be fine. So, we can tell Linton we've sorted what's acceptable an' we know we can look convincing, right?"

"Agreed, sir." James's tone and body language is all formal; they could be agreeing on which suspect to interview next.

Oh, well, it's better than being all awkward around each other, isn't it?

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Robbie phones Linton to try to work out a place to meet.

"I thought," Linton says on the other end of the line, "you'd come to the station."

"Talk sense, man," Lewis retorts. "You said yourself we'll need to be careful. We can't be seen going down the nick at this point."

"You're recommending a public meeting place?" Linton asks.

Robbie shakes his head. "No. You've just done that media appeal for your last case. People will have it fresh in their mind that you're a police officer."

"People do have coppers as friends," Linton says, voice heavily laced with sarcasm.

"Really? Which ones?" Robbie retorts.

"So you can't be seen going into the police station. You can't be seen meeting with me publicly. And for the same reason, you probably won't want me coming to either one of your flats?"

"Yeah, that's right," Robbie says.

"So what you're saying is, you'd rather not meet at all."

Robbie sighs. "We've both been undercover, man. We don't need the help. You can brief us by mail if you really feel you need to. Just no official letterhead, eh?"

"And I should just trust that you're effective as a couple without any evidence?"

"Yeah, you should. Because we're good at our jobs," Robbie says.

"I have a better idea. You two go to a gay pub. I'll go separately. Won't talk to you. Won't contact you. But I'll be there watching to make sure you can really manage."

"Tell him we'll be at the Jolly Farmers tomorrow after eight," James says when Robbie phones him to brief him on the conversation with Linton. 

A different pub from the one James was at the other night. Makes sense; if the suspects or their associates frequent the Castle Tavern, they might notice Linton and recognise him if that were the chosen venue.

"Right. So I'll meet you there, or what?" 

"No," James says immediately. "If we're supposed to be a couple, we should arrive together. I'll come over to yours in the early afternoon – that is, if you'd still like me to help you choose appropriate clothes."

"Yeah, you'd better." It's almost a shock to realise how much he wants to see the bloke. James went home a couple of hours ago, straight after he'd finished his second coffee. Robbie'd wanted to suggest he stay around, but he'd had no real reason to offer – other than a sudden, surprising desire for the bloke's company. And, yes, he always enjoyed the off-duty time he spent with James, but this felt different, somehow.

"Tell you what," he adds. "Come earlier an' have lunch here. An' before you start mocking, it won't be out of a packet. All right?"

"Curiosity alone would make me accept, sir," James answers, and he is bloody mocking.

"Sod." Robbie shakes his head. "See you tomorrow. An' maybe you should bring whatever you'd need to stay overnight. Suppose, if we're to do this properly, we would stay over at each other's sometimes."

"Of course," James says, tone formal again, and ends the call.

Robbie feels like he's always stepping wrong with James somehow. He wonders if this has something to do with him inserting himself into this undercover business. He knows he should have given James more say in whether or not he wanted Robbie to do this with him, but he selfishly didn't want to leave any room to be left out. After what happened to James last night, he doesn't want the lad getting hurt. And if he's there… well, in the worst case, he could get in between James and anyone trying to hurt him. Hopefully it won't come to that.

He just has to hope that his friendship with James is strong enough to survive him imposing like this.

* * *

The next afternoon, James arrives, bag in tow.

"You realise the assumption that your collection of clothes will contain something appropriate is a fairly enormous assumption," James quips.

"Oi!" Robbie says. "I know things about fashion."

James raises an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"You're not meant to wear two patterns at once," Robbie says. "Lyn used to tell me that."

James gives him a pitying look. "You had to be told?"

Robbie pulls a face at James. "Changed me mind. Your lunch is coming out of a packet after all."

James smirks. "Did you buy crisps this morning?"

"No," Robbie says. "I have a nice lunch for us, something even you ought to like. Cheese and avocado quesadillas. Looked up the recipe and I don't think even I can get it wrong."

James has the grace to look impressed. "That does sound good. Thank you."

Robbie doesn't mention how long he looked for a recipe that seemed foolproof but also the sort of thing James would like. He wants to prove himself, he supposes. He wants to show James he can do this, that there's more to him than James might've thought.

Lunch is good, and James is genuinely complimentary. "This is delicious, sir. You really should cook more often if this is a sample of what you can do."

"Dunno about that. Even if I had the skill, I haven't got the patience." He pours more fruit juice – tropical and Caribbean juices, to complement the quesadillas. "You should be callin' me Robbie. Won't sound natural tonight if that's the first time you use my name."

"True... Robbie." James lays his cutlery on his plate. "So, do you want me to inspect your wardrobe to see if there's anything salvageable, or shall we just assume that you need everything new?"

"Oi. I'm not that bad." But he shrugs then. "Maybe I'd better just get it all new." His jeans are faded and saggy, his cords have gone shiny in places, and Lyn always teases him about his shirts looking like they're all twenty years old. He'd look pretty naff next to James – and there's another thought. If he's got a young boyfriend he's presumably proud to be with, then he'd make an effort appearance-wise, wouldn't he?

"Fine." James stands. "Don't suppose the Force is giving us expenses for this?" Robbie snorts, and James grins. "If they were, I'd take you to Jaeger and go a bit mad. Otherwise... Top Man it is."

"Christ. I don't want to look like mutton dressed as lamb."

James pats his shoulder. "You won't. Two or three smart shirts – a mix of solid and either striped or check – and jeans that actually fit you. That should do to start with."

He pulls a face. "Just as long as you're not imaginin' getting me into drainpipes like the ones you wear."

* * *

Robbie isn't at all certain about this, but lets James take him to Queen Street and into Top Man, where he initially feels very out of place – shop assistants who are younger than James, and customers half his age. But after twenty minutes or so of trying on what James selects for him, and realising that the bloke's got bloody good taste, he also notices a couple of men his age browsing in the shop. Maybe he's getting better at this gaydar thing; he's pretty sure they're a couple.

And then he comes out of the changing room wearing a soft cotton shirt in dark blue, paired with dark tailored jeans. He likes the way he looks, even if he says so himself – but then he sees James's face...

James is smiling. Not half-smiling or that humourless stretch of mouth he manages sometimes when he knows he's meant to be smiling, but a genuine, full smile, teeth showing and all.

"This," he says softly, gesturing to what Robbie is wearing. "This is perfect."

Robbie feels a bit proud (for no reason, really, because what right does he have to be proud of appearing a certain way when he's had nothing to do with it?). If James thinks he looks good… well, James would have no reason to lie about that. And he wouldn't say it unless he meant it. Robbie feels the ridiculous urge to preen a bit. Christ, is this all it takes to turn him into someone completely ridiculous, a bit of attention? He's got to be more careful.

"Ta," he says quietly, trying not to read too much into the fact that James thinks he looks good in this.

And then James rests a hand on his arm and rubs up and down. "Feels good," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble.

Oh bloody hell. Robbie knows James is pretending (they have to now, when they're in public) but it feels… it feels so real. 

"All yours," he whispers, and if James wasn't scared off before, he will be now. He'll be a bloody great icicle when they're back in the flat, back in the safety of the car… anywhere other than here. Robbie wishes it weren't like that.

And part of him wishes he could believe this pretence they've built. Because it's so much better than anything he'd imagined.

Robbie pulls back. The least he can do is help James feel comfortable with this. "I still have a few more things to try," he whispers.

James says nothing… just nods and watches him go.

At the cash register, the total amount makes Robbie wince inwardly – but he hands over his credit card anyway. It's not as if he'd only wear the stuff once, after all. It's all normal-bloke clothing, and he felt good wearing all of it. 

James thought he looked good wearing all of it.

And, suddenly, he wants more of James looking at him approvingly, as if James thinks he looks good.

"Do I need anything else?" he asks as they leave Top Man. "Seem to remember you've wrinkled your nose up at me coat more than once."

James wrinkles his nose again. "Well, if you will insist on shopping at M&S or BHS..." 

Robbie shrugs. "It's where Val always bought me clothes." And he immediately wishes he could yank back the words as James's expression shutters and he seems to put several inches of distance between himself and Robbie.

"Do you need a coat for tonight?" James asks, taking one of the bags from Robbie. Their fingers brush, but James doesn't allow the touch to linger.

"Probably not. 'S a warm evening."

"Fine. If you can do without, then... There are good shops here, but they're expensive. There's Debenhams – but I'd really prefer to go to London, if you're willing? I know a few places where the prices are good and the quality's excellent."

"Places where you shop?" Robbie asks as they get into the car. "You always look like you spend a fortune on your clothes, an' I know there's no way you could afford that."

"You've discovered my secret." James gives him a crooked smile. "Do you think, since we can't do our usual job over the coming week, Innocent would have a problem with us going to London for a day?"

"Essential preparation for an important undercover operation," Robbie says immediately – though he will have to speak to Innocent and make sure that she's fully on board with this. He doesn't know what Linton's said. He hesitates, then adds, feeling like a bloody glutton for punishment, "Might be an opportunity to get in a bit more practice."

"Oh?" James quirks an eyebrow. "What, walking around hand in hand? I hardly think anyone'd see us in London."

"Probably not, though we can't be too careful. No, I meant we could stay the night somewhere. Get used to sharing a hotel room."

James's expression still has a bit of remove to it, and Robbie silently kicks himself for the suggestion. "I… don't know what you're thinking…"

Oh, Christ, he thinks Robbie's propositioned him. How can Robbie fix this? What can he say?

"Nothing, man," Robbie says, briefly touching James's arm. "Only what you're comfortable with. I promise. It's just… might be good to work out what that is before we sort of… have to. It's whatever you want."

James hesitates, then nods. Robbie will have to tread carefully, he knows; he doesn't want James to feel as though Robbie is compromising his virtue or summat like that. But again, if it's going to be awkward, better that it be awkward before it counts.

"Come on," James says quietly. "Let's go back to yours and prepare to be a couple for Linton."

Robbie wishes he could read James's mind sometimes, because James is giving him bloody nothing to work with.

* * *

Robbie feels like he's being entirely transparent when he wears the dark jeans and blue shirt that James liked so much in the shop. But all James does when he sees Robbie is smile slightly.

"Dressing up for me?" James asks.

"No, I want to drive Linton mad with desire," Robbie retorts.

That actually makes James laugh. "Might as well. He won't be doing anything useful tonight." He touches Robbie's shoulder. "You're absolutely certain you're ready for this?"

Robbie nods, taking James's hand. "Let's go."

They can't find parking very close to the Jolly Farmer, but that gives them the chance for a brief walk outside. As promised, James slips an arm around Robbie's shoulders, and Robbie leans into the embrace. It's odd being the shorter one in the pairing… odd but nice.

"Lovely, pet," Robbie murmurs, and feels a gentle kiss pressed against the top of his head that makes his heart flutter in a decidedly un-undercover way.

Inside, Robbie instantly spots Linton, who's drinking at the bar. James nudges him and gestures to a pew-style seat at a table in the corner, where it's a bit darker and they'll have more privacy. Robbie nods. "I'll get them in."

He ignores Linton completely, ordering and paying for two pints of Bridge and carrying them to their table. He slides in next to James, their hips and thighs pressed together. Immediately, James winds his arm around Robbie's shoulder again. Instinctively, he leans his head towards James, and his chin rests on the bloke's shoulder.

"Cheers," James says, and reaches for his pint with his free hand. Robbie does likewise. 

He's had hundreds of pints with James over the years they've been together... been partnered. But tonight's completely different; James is completely different. He's never felt so much the focus of the lad's attention before. James hardly looks anywhere else but at Robbie, and the fond affection in his eyes can't help but make Robbie's heart beat faster. 

And then James sets his glass on the table, and reaches for Robbie's hand, sliding his palm over the back of Robbie's hand and playing with Robbie's fingers. Robbie's stomach flips over, and his breath catches. Christ. How could he have known James all these years and never realised... But he can't let the bloke find out. It's not James's fault that they've been forced into this pretence, or that his boss has suddenly found himself in the middle of a mid-life sexual identity crisis. Or, more likely, a _James_ crisis.

"All right?" James murmurs, a hint of concern in his voice.

Robbie forces himself to focus on what they're doing. Pretending. Nothing more than that. "Yeah, I'm fine, pet. Linton watching us?"

"In the mirror behind the bar." James leans closer. "We should give him something convincing." And his lips part, and cover Robbie's in a deep kiss.

Robbie closes his eyes, and for a moment, he doesn't think. He just feels. And what he feels is _James_.

When they pull apart, neither one of them instigates it; they both seem to pull apart at the same time, and Robbie hears himself laugh, low and warm, in the back of his throat. He rests his forehead against James's… or James rests his forehead against Robbie's… or they rest their foreheads against each other's.

James brushes his fingertips against Robbie's cheek. "Do you think that'll convince him?"

"Suppose we'd best be sure," Robbie says, leaning in more out of instinct than anything else. But James meets him, and they kiss again, soft and slow, and Robbie feels like his entire body is tingling by the time they pull apart.

_Bollocks. I promised I wouldn't take it too fast_. Robbie avoids another kiss by resting his head on James's shoulder. James's hand is moving in slow, lazy circles on Robbie's arm. Robbie wants to close his eyes and relax. He feels cared for. More than that…he feels loved. And that's the most dangerous thing of all.

He hears James's phone buzz and looks up at him reproachfully. "It's our night out, love."

"Sorry," James says. "I just need to see what it is." He checks his mobile and then snorts with laughter. He turns the phone so Robbie can see the screen.

The text is from Linton, and it's only two words. _You win_.

* * *

They celebrate victory with another round – James's shout this time. When the lad comes back with their drinks, Robbie automatically leans into him again, and – at least, so it feels – James automatically loops his arm around Robbie's shoulders again.

And, after James takes his first drink, Robbie reaches for the bloke's hand, linking their fingers together and rubbing his thumb across the back of James's hand. James smiles, then moves closer still to Robbie, and presses a soft kiss to Robbie's ear.

Bloody hell. If this was anyone other than James, anything other than part of an undercover operation, Robbie'd be trying to remember when he'd last changed the sheets on his bed.

_Are you sure it's just pretence?_ a tiny, hopeful voice asks. Those kisses... that felt like a lot more than play-acting. And James is gay. He's also never given any indication that he has a problem with Robbie's age – he even told Robbie, years ago, that he doesn't feel that he has much in common with people his own age. Maybe there's a chance that they could turn this into something real. From his own perspective, he's never felt this... loved... with anyone since Val died.

Maybe all James needs is a subtle hint or two in the right direction. Perhaps over the next few days... 

They sip their pints slowly, James stroking Robbie's shoulder and Robbie reaching for James's free hand when he's not using it to hold his pint. James doesn't kiss him again, though, so Robbie decides to take the initiative. "Linton's still here," he murmurs, leaning closer to James, and reaches up to kiss the bloke. James meets him half-way, and it's just as good as before: intimate, warm and, when James's tongue touches his lightly, electric.

Maybe, if James would be open to another kiss later, back at the flat...

* * *

They stroll slowly together back to the car, arms around each other, and then in the car they turn to meet each other's gaze every couple of minutes. And Robbie's heart is racing as he turns the key in the lock of his flat. 

He turns to James once they're inside... and the lad's expression is neutral and completely professional, not at all like the look of someone who can't wait to get his tongue down Robbie's throat. 

"Can I make you a drink before you go to bed, sir? Tea? Cocoa? And then if you wouldn't mind showing me where to find the spare bedding for the sofa, I can get out of your way."

Robbie keeps his own expression neutral, but he feels as though he's lost something he's never had. Of course. He was stupid to think James would… well. They'll have a bit more pretending to do, but Robbie will have to make peace with the fact that this is all he'll ever have. That James is just that good an actor.

He tries to ignore the dull ache he's feeling inside.

"No, thanks," he says tonelessly. "Spare bedding's in the hall cupboard. You can find it just as easily as I can show it to you."

He's trying not to be hurt. But he is hurt. It was so good. How can James be so good at making him feel cared for and… and good… and just turn it off with the flick of a switch? Robbie admits to himself that he's never been that skilled, even when he has gone undercover. Things sometimes bleed over. But not, it seems, for James. Not the least little bit.

He turns his back on James and goes to bed. And, as he expected, he sleeps horribly.

All his dreams are of James.

* * *

Robbie's eyes are red and tired when he walks into the kitchen in the morning. James is there, fully dressed and shaved, and he's making breakfast. "Good morning, sir. Can I make something for you?"

"Just coffee, thanks." He sounds gruff and bad-tempered, but doesn't care. He slumps into a chair at the table and scrubs at his eyes. When he hears the sound of a mug being set down in front of him, he mutters something that might have been thanks.

"I was just looking up hotels in London," James says, sitting opposite him. "I can get a good price on something centrally-located."

Robbie goes cold inside. "No." There's no way he can do this: spend all day with James in London pretending to be lovers, and then spend the night with him in a hotel-room with a distant, unloving James who'll probably insist on sleeping in a chair, or something ridiculous like that. He just can't do it.

"No?" James's expression is only mildly curious.

"It's not necessary. We proved last night that we can pull this pretence off convincingly. There's no need to go to the trouble of any more messing around. You can come over here a couple of evenings this week – I'll get Innocent to send over some cold cases – and that'll do until we have to go to Henley. As for a coat," he adds, and hears the harsh tone in his voice, but makes no attempt to change it, "I'll make do, or I'll find something myself."

For a long moment, James is very still. Then he stands and pushes in his chair. "Of course, sir – as you wish. I'll get out of your way now. Let me know when it's convenient to come over – the day after tomorrow, perhaps."

All he can do is nod and watch his sergeant leave.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Robbie hasn't felt like this since he was a teenager, and he doesn't feel as though he knows what to do about it any more. Well… he didn't necessarily know what to do about it then, either, but he thought he did at the time. Or… at least he had a few ideas. Now he's got no ideas and he's feeling bloody lost.

Yes. He has feelings for James and James doesn't have feelings for him. He knows this. But that doesn't mean he can't be a bloody grown-up. And somewhere along the line, he stopped being one because he was feeling rejected.

He is still feeling rejected. But he's going to lose James completely if he doesn't work out how to ignore that or move past it. And, much as he wishes he could have him as a lover, he doesn't want to lose him as a friend because he's too short-sighted to see what he needs to do to make this work.

He phones James and invites him to lunch the day after tomorrow, as James has suggested. James is the bloody Arctic when he first arrives, and Robbie doesn't blame him. Robbie must've seemed moody and mercurial… stuff he thought he'd left behind a long time ago. Bugger love, anyway.

But Robbie makes the cheese and avocado quesadillas James likes, and that de-ices him a bit. Then, after they've finished lunch, Robbie says, "I want to apologise."

James shakes his head. "Sir, you don't need to…"

"No, I do," Robbie says quietly. "I was snappy with you the other day and there was no need. I just…" He pauses. Now he needs to tell the truth, but tell it slant, as Morse would've said. "I've been worrying about this undercover business. But I don't want it to get in the way of… I don't want us to be on radio silence for the rest of our lives because of this. I want us to still be friends. D'you think we can do that?"

James nods, his expression unreadable. Then his expression thaws… only slightly, but it's enough. It's significant. "I understand, sir. And I'm sorry too. As you say, it's been a stressful time. And perhaps I haven't been… coping with it as I ought."

Robbie nods in response. "So… are we all right?"

James nods. "We are." He smiles slightly, gesturing to his plate. "And don't think I didn't notice you made these as a peace offering."

"Anything to help," Robbie says quietly.

James reaches out and awkwardly pats Robbie's hand once. "It's all right. We're all right. I promise."

Robbie hopes this is true… but he thinks it is.

"So," James says once they're clearing away the lunch dishes, "cold cases?"

He pulls a face. "We should. Not because of what I said the other day, but... well, I did talk to Innocent, and she's only reluctantly agreeing to us staying away from the nick as long as we get some work done here." He nods towards the boxes on the floor. "Been working me way through these the last couple of days."

James abruptly stops moving and gives him a hard stare. "You should have sent some over to me." _Since you clearly didn't want me here_ is the obvious unspoken addition.

Robbie rubs at his eyebrow. "I... well, s'pose I felt I didn't deserve your help after..." He shakes his head. 

"With respect, sir, that's nonsense." James looks as if he'd like to say more along the same lines. "And anyway, this is work – it's what I'm paid to do." He bends and picks up a box. "Where would you like me to start?"

Robbie joins him at the table and they pull out some case-files. It's all very formal and businesslike – but one step at a time. Anyway, personal matters aside, they do need to work.

Five hours and several cups of coffee later, Robbie closes the file they've been working on for the past hour. "That's enough. Me brain can't take any more for today."

James smiles, and it's genuine. "I was just thinking the same." He puts the file away. "So... should I take some of these home, or come over again tomorrow and work on them here? For appearance's sake, that'd probably be better."

Sod appearance's sake – but he can't really blame the lad for thinking that way. He's the one who pushed James away – bloody shoved him, actually. "Come over here, of course. Apart from anything else, it's much better workin' on these with you."

"I suppose we always have bounced ideas off each other effectively."

"Yeah, but that's not what I mean. I like having you around. So I hope you don't have to be anywhere this evening?" James shakes his head. "Takeaway, beer and crap telly?"

That gets him a smile. "I'd like that. Thank you, sir."

"Good. And I'd prefer Robbie, man, all right?"

He hands James a takeaway menu and finishes clearing the table, then gets them a couple of bottles of Bridge. James joins him on the couch a couple of minutes later, sitting further away from him than usual. Robbie glances at him and then pointedly at the space between them. James hesitates, then slides closer. Robbie gives him an approving nod.

James sighs and relaxes for the first time in what feels like days… weeks, maybe. "It's been so strange… everything being different."

"Aye, I know," Robbie says softly. "For me too."

James leans his head back so he's staring at the ceiling. "I always felt I could… relax when I was here." He turns his head toward Robbie. "I hope that doesn't sound…"

"No," Robbie says. "I always felt relaxed with you too. I hope… I hope we can still…"

James nods. "I think so. Yeah."

Robbie swallows. He's not much for sentimentality. "Hope you know I… wouldn't trade you for anything."

He can feel James looking at him but doesn't want to see if James is disgusted or thinks what he's said is stupid.

"Same here, sir," James says.

"Told you. Robbie." He pats James's arm; that, he hopes, won't be misinterpreted.

He gets one of James's rare sweet smiles in return. "Robbie." 

"Better." An idea occurs to him. Maybe James is going to think he's being ridiculous, but – well, it could kill two birds with one stone. Reassure James that he really does trust and care about him, and gain at least something for himself, even if he can't have everything he'd like from James. 

"One thing I've... liked about what we've been doing," he begins awkwardly.

"Yes?" James's tone is encouraging.

"I've missed..." He stares down at his lap. "Being close to someone. Touching, hugging, y'know? And I know," he adds, noting James's surprised look out of the corner of his eye, "I've not been alone all the time. There was Laura – and I don't know why, but it never felt the same. And yet, with you–" He stops abruptly; Christ, he's making a right idiot of himself, and what on earth made him imagine that James might want to hear this?"

A warm hand covers his. "Go on, Robbie. With me...?" 

"With you, it was... nice."

For a long moment, James doesn't move. And then the hand's removed from his, and Robbie's heart sinks – until a long arm winds itself around his shoulders, holding him close. "Is this nice?"

"Yeah." He swallows and allows himself to settle against James. "It's very nice – as long as you don't mind?"

"No." James's voice is the barest whisper, but he gives the answer that Robbie had been wishing for, hoping for, holding his breath for. "No. I don't mind at all."

And now it's Robbie's turn to relax, sinking against James with a sigh, head coming to rest on James's shoulder. It's lovely. He feels as though he can just… turn off all his worries in a way he is seldom able to do.

"Was this…" James hesitates.

"Go on," Robbie murmurs.

"The other night," James says slowly. "When we got home. Were you trying to… to work up to saying something like this?"

Robbie nods against James's shoulder. No sense telling him everything. "Something like that."

"And I pulled away and offered to make you cocoa." James sounds equal parts mortified and amused.

"It wasn't quite the conversation-starter I'd hoped for," Robbie admits.

James gives him a little squeeze round the shoulder. "No wonder you were stroppy."

"No, that's no excuse," Robbie murmurs. "I take responsibility for me own actions, James. What do scientists say? There's the stimulus and the response, yeah?"

"Yeah," James says.

Robbie is beginning to feel a bit sleepy. "Only person responsible for the response is me and…" He yawns. "What are we talking about?"

"Science." James sounds amused.

"Too bad," Robbie murmurs. He sighs, eyes drooping shut as he nuzzles James's shoulder with his cheek. "So glad we're all right, James."

He has to wake up a bit when dinner arrives, but once they've eaten he settles back against James's shoulder again. The TV's on in the background, but he doesn't pay it any attention. He's got all – well, almost all – he wants right here.

He doesn't know how much later it is when a warm voice says in his ear, "Wake up, sleepyhead."

"Wha'? No, let me..."

"Robbie." James shakes him gently. "Come on, you need to go to bed. Your back won't thank you in the morning if you sleep here. And I should get off home."

"Stay," he says, without thinking, and just manages to stop himself from asking James to cuddle in bed with him.

James hesitates, then says, "If you're sure. It's not great driving weather." It's only then that Robbie hears a crash of thunder, followed quickly by a brilliant flash of lightning. 

"Bloody hell! No, you're not going anywhere, man." He straightens, then drags himself upright. "Go on, you use the bathroom an' I'll get the bedding for you." 

A few minutes later, the sofa's ready for James and he's back, smiling a bit awkwardly. "Thank you. Not just for this–" He gestures to the couch. "... Everything."

"Don't be daft." Robbie shakes his head. "I should be thanking you." They look at each other, hesitant somehow, and then James reaches for him, pulling him into a hug.

"Goodnight, Robbie."

* * *

There are more cold cases the following morning, but by lunchtime Robbie's feeling like he needs a break. "If I stay here much longer, I'll get cabin fever." He raises an eyebrow in James's direction. "Come out for lunch? And... if I've not burned me bridges entirely, maybe we could go shopping for a jacket or coat. Don't worry about the cost – just show me what you think would look good. Yeah?"

James gives Robbie one of those rare but wonderful warm smiles. "Don't worry. I have definite opinions about coat silhouettes." He pauses. "If you really mean it."

"I really mean it," Robbie says, feeling guilty once more for how quickly he crushed James's friendly gestures the other morning. "Look, I'm sorry about…"

"Robbie." James's fingers brush his hand… just a little, but it's enough. "Don't worry. I know."

Robbie looks at James, but James has a kind look of understanding in his eyes, and Robbie nods. He does know.

Lunch is the most comfortable they've been in public all week. Robbie feels like he doesn't have to be anyone but himself, and James seems more at ease as well, telling funny stories over lunch and even laughing a few times, that self-conscious chuckle he has that sounds as though he's cutting it off before it gets loud and embarrassing.

Just once, Robbie would love to hear the loud, embarrassing laugh James is holding in.

When they arrive at the clothing shop, James rests a hand on Robbie's arm (and touch is easier now, now that they both know that casual touch is all right, that both of them can manage it).

"So," James says lightly, "do you want me to show you what you would ordinarily choose?"

"Can't think how you'd know something like that," Robbie scoffs.

James proceeds to lead Robbie to the area where they have bulky, floppy, shapeless parkas. He turns to Robbie and raises an eyebrow.

Robbie nods in resignation, accepting defeat. Yes… this is exactly what he would've chosen on his own. He gives James a wry smile, and James returns it.

"So," James says, "are you looking for a coat or a jacket? Something warm, or something light?"

He shrugs. "Haven't really thought about it."

James leads the way to a different area of the Debenham's coat section, with a variety of short, slim jackets in cotton, suede, leather and other fabrics. "If it's for this weekend, one of these would be perfect. The weather's supposed to be fine with a bit of breeze."

Robbie hesitates. "They all look... skinny. Sort of thing that'd look good on you, not me."

"You trusted me the other day, didn't you? And what was the result?"

He has to smile wryly. "Yeah, all right." And now, of course, he wishes he'd taken the trouble to wear one of the outfits James had chosen for him. "What d'you recommend?"

"I'd love to see you in leather." James fingers a dark grey tailored hip-length jacket. "But this is a bit expensive, and probably not the thing to wear to a festival."

"Yeah, probably not," he agrees, looking at it – and at James's expression. And, god, he wants to see James look at him again the way he did when Robbie walked out of that changing room in Top Man. "Give it here."

James passes it over. Bloody hell, it's got one of those heavy security tags on it. That means it's going to be stupidly expensive. All the same... He strokes the leather with his fingertips. It's beautifully soft. He turns away from James to pull it on, then once it's sitting right he turns around. And, yes, James's eyes are wide and his expression's admiring.

"Oh, yes," James says softly, and he takes a couple of steps closer. Reaching out, he smoothes the shoulders of the jacket, then fastens a couple of the bottom buttons. "Look in the mirror."

Robbie does. Yes, it's lovely – and he looks bloody great in it. It's slimming and stylish, and he doesn't at all look like mutton dressed as lamb. He takes a deep breath and looks at the price-tag. Oh, yeah. Over three hundred quid. 

"For this weekend, something like this would be much better." Robbie turns and sees that James is holding out a dark blue jacket in what looks like cotton. Reluctantly, he takes off the leather jacket and tries this on. It's a mix of cotton and something else, probably synthetic, with a tailored collar in light blue, fitted cuffs, zip fastening and several pockets. Again, it fits very well – when he looks in the mirror, there's nothing baggy or awkward about it.

James's face, when Robbie turns, shows that he agrees – though it's more a general expression of approval, and nothing like the way he admired the leather jacket. Robbie takes a deep breath. "All right, then." The second jacket's more reasonably priced at just under eighty quid. Well, his credit card's going to take a hammering again today, but it's worth it. Even if James doesn't actually fancy him, that admiring look's well worth the money.

When he carries both items to the cash register, the look of shock and pleasure on James's face is lovely to see. Doesn't hurt, either, that he's handed a scratch-card at the till – mystery discount, due to the amount he's spending – which gives him a decent saving. All in all, a good day.

Leaving the shop, he glances at James. "I can't wear the leather one to the festival. And we probably should be seen out and about a bit more here. Fancy going out to dinner tonight? Decent restaurant, not a pub. What d'you think?"

James gives Robbie a questioning look. "Are you sure? You did just spend a fair amount of money on your new jackets."

"Oh, you can help me pay for dinner. I won't say no to that," Lewis says, trying to sound light-hearted and good-humoured and not hanging on James's acceptance or refusal.

James is silent for a moment. Then he nods. "Sounds like a good idea." He gives Robbie a lopsided grin. "After this morning, I was beginning to see your flat when I closed my eyes."

"That's not a bad thing," Robbie says before he can think better of it.

Luckily, James takes it as a joke. "Of course not. Your flat is very elegant." He nudges Robbie playfully with his arm.

Robbie nudges him back.

* * *

Robbie is beginning to understand why people care about clothes. He hasn't, not in a long time (the more cynical would say obviously never), but now that it's James looking at him… yes, all right. He does care what James thinks about what he looks like. He goes through all the outfits James chose for him twice, musing about their pros and cons, before he chooses what to wear to dinner that night.

_I've turned into a bloody fashion model._ Which in itself is ludicrous, because although he looks good in the clothes, better than he generally does, he's still no model and he's well aware of that.

Even so, he puts on the leather jacket before he leaves the bedroom.

And there's that admiring look on James's face again, and it is glorious. James looks nice too… he's wearing that lavender shirt he sometimes wears with a yellow tie (yes, Lewis has noticed) but the sleeves are rolled up and the top button open for a more casual look. And he's done something with his hair… styled it some way.

"You look nice," Robbie says softly.

James looks shy. "So do you."

They've chosen an Italian restaurant Robbie's been to once and James has always wanted to try. So they can both have wine with their meal, they take a taxi, getting the driver to let them out near Martyrs’ Memorial – it's a nice evening, and traffic's heavy on the Broad. Robbie takes James's hand as they walk; he knows James will just accept it as part of establishing their cover for the weekend, and he... he just wants it.

For the first time, as they stroll, it occurs to Robbie that it's entirely possible that someone from the nick might see them – either an on-duty uniform or just someone out for the evening. He hopes Linton's briefed everyone to ignore him and James if they should happen to notice the two of them out and about. It's what he'd have done if he were the senior officer in charge.

In the restaurant, they're shown to a side table near the window; private, but not so tucked away that no-one would see them. As they browse their menus, James reaches across and strokes Robbie's hand lightly. "Hope you notice the extra attention you're getting tonight," he murmurs softly. 

Robbie huffs a little. "All because of a few new clothes. Still me inside."

James smiles. "I know, and I'm glad. Wouldn't want you any other way. But it isn't just the clothes," he adds. "You look... happy."

He can't resist closing his fingers around James's. "I am." More quietly, he adds, "Hope we won't lose this... closer friendship when everything else is over."

"I don't want to." James squeezes his hand.

"Good." Robbie nods to the waiter, and they order. 

Over dinner, conversation flows easily, as it always has between them. Robbie can't know what James is thinking, of course, but he's not even considering their undercover roles as he holds eye contact, smiles at James, touches the lad's hand occasionally and is touched in return. It all feels completely natural. He can only hope it feels equally natural for James.

They're talking about places they've been – different countries around Europe, Robbie's visit to Australia back in the nineties, James's backpacking working holiday to parts of America while he was a student – and comparing notes on places they both want to visit. Neither of them's been to Scotland or Ireland; James was thinking of going to one or the other some time later in the summer, however.

"Not on your own?" Robbie frowns. 

James shrugs slightly. "I usually do."

"You don't need to, love. Not any more. We'll go together," Robbie suggests. "Take the car, stay in B&Bs. What d'you think?"

He can't quite decipher the look in James's eyes. Hopeful? Embarrassed? Wondering how to decline gracefully? "I'd like that," James answers, his voice quiet, and Robbie smiles automatically.

But does James mean it, or is he just going along with their cover?

Robbie decides it doesn't matter. If James has just agreed to travelling together for show, he'll make that more than clear when they're on their own again. And if James is all right with travelling together as friends, Robbie wasn't joking or pretending; he would genuinely like to go with James, to travel with him and listen to whatever James had learnt about this or that location. For now… he'll just pretend it's something they're really going to do.

He'll pretend James loves him because that's the only way it will be true.

James seems to sense the change in mood and takes his hand across the table. "Everything all right?" he asks, gentle concern infusing his voice.

"Fine," Robbie says, giving James an apologetic smile. "Just thinking… well… just thinking how lucky I am."

James's eyes seem to soften, and he gives Robbie's hand a gentle squeeze. "So am I."

Robbie almost kisses James's hand, but he thinks that might be one of those things that makes James's eyes close off and James shy away from him. Above all, he just wants this evening to work.

And it does. This feels familiar. Comfortable. As though they've always been like this together. Robbie does feel lucky; he feels bloody lucky that… that James was willing to follow him this far. That touch is now all right. James might've recoiled and pulled away from him for good… Robbie feels as though it was headed in that direction and that it was only sheer luck they managed to stem off that disaster. This is yonks better.

If this is all he gets to have, this will be plenty.

* * *

It's still a nice evening when they're ready to leave, so they decide to walk to the nearest taxi rank rather than have the restaurant phone one for them. Once they're outside, James shifts close to Robbie and loops his arm around Robbie's shoulders. "Okay?" he asks, keeping his voice low. 

"You know it is."

"Good." James moves his hand up and down on Robbie's shoulder. "I love the feel of this jacket on you."

"Me too." Well, it's more that he loves feeling James's arm around him when he's wearing it, but he can't possibly say that. 

Back at his flat, they make coffee and adjourn to the couch. James glances at Robbie, and then extends his arm. Robbie gratefully slides closer and rests against James's side, relaxing into the comfort of his friend's arm around him. "Nice."

"Yeah." James glances sideways at him, then presses a kiss to his forehead. He's looking a bit embarrassed as he shifts back again. Robbie reaches across and squeezes the lad's free hand in what he hopes is a gesture of reassurance, that this is all very much okay with him.

"You staying tonight?" he asks after a while, trying not to give away how much he wants James to.

"I shouldn't. I'll phone for a taxi in a bit."

"Why? You've got your overnight kit in your car, don't you? And you went home earlier to change, so it's not as if you've not checked your messages or post or anything."

"I suppose." James's head tilts sideways a little, until it's resting against Robbie's. "I will need to go home tomorrow, though. Need to pack for Henley – we'll have to set off around two or so to get settled in before the Festival opening."

"Right." And tomorrow night they'll be sharing a hotel room, of course. James has already booked it, and Robbie hasn't asked anything about it – but he'd guess that James has played safe and booked a room with two beds. Unless he thinks that for the sake of appearances they should have one bed?

Well, he'll find out tomorrow. For tonight, he's got his best mate to snuggle up to on the couch, and James is staying. And maybe tomorrow he'll get to kiss the lad again, even if it is only to maintain their cover. He'll take it, though; a kiss is still a kiss, even if it is all pretence on James's part, isn't it?


	4. Chapter 4

_The crowd is seething, busy… much more massive than Robbie had expected._

_"Stay close to me," he tells James, clutching his hand tightly. James nods and presses close to Robbie._

_But the crowd is turbulent, agitated. Someone grabs Robbie and pulls him, hard, and as he struggles to get away from a potential attacker, someone jumps on James with a shout, and their hands are pulled apart._

_Robbie searches the crowd frantically, but there are too many people. No. This isn't happening; this can't be happening._

_"James!" he shouts, pushing back toward the place James was attacked, but there are too many people, and they all seem to be trying to go the opposite way to him now. "James!"_

"Robbie."

Robbie wakes with a start, eyes scanning in front of him, for a moment not understanding where he is. Oh… the flat. No crowd. No mob. And a warmth next to him that can only be one person.

"You fell asleep watching telly," James says quietly, rubbing Robbie's back with one hand. "Are you all right?"

Robbie nods, pressing closer to James and looping an arm around him to reassure himself that James is here and all right. "Yeah. Fine."

He feels James's cheek against the top of his head. "Nightmare?"

Robbie swallows, eyes closing as he nods. "Yeah."

"Can you tell me about it?" James's tone is so gentle, so encouraging – it's a bit like the way he talks to victims sometimes, except there's something else in there, too. Robbie could almost believe it's love, except that he knows it's not. Well, friendship, of course.

He shudders a bit. "We were at the Festival, and it started to get violent. We were pulled apart, and people were attacking you, and I couldn't see you... I didn't know if you were all right, or lying bleeding somewhere..."

James's free hand grips his. "I'm here. I'm fine."

"I know. I... it was just a bad dream."

"Yeah." James squeezes his hand. "Maybe I should go alone. I don't want you to be scared like that."

"No!" He sits up abruptly, eyes wide, staring at James. "No. You're not going alone. An' anyway, don't you think I'd be even more worried if I wasn't with you?"

After a pause, James nods. "I understand." His arm tightens around Robbie briefly, and then he releases him entirely, picks up the remote control and turns off the telly. "Must've been something on the news that sparked off the nightmare. You should go to bed, Robbie. You're obviously tired." 

James is right; it probably was the telly. But still, the thought of going to bed on his own, with James out here, doesn't appeal. He almost asks... but, no. That wouldn't be fair, and anyway, what if he does something in his sleep and gives himself away? No. It's too risky.

With a deep breath, he forces himself to his feet. "You're right, man. I should." Tentatively, he reaches out and presses a hand to James's shoulder. "Thanks. Sleep well, bonny lad."

James smiles and tugs him closer, offering a gentle hug. "Goodnight, Robbie."

Robbie holds on tight to James…maybe slightly longer than he should. _I won't let anything bad happen to you. I promise_. He presses a gentle kiss to James's cheek and starts for the bedroom. "Goodnight."

* * *

Sleep is uneasy that night, but lat least it doesn't contain any more nightmares. Robbie isn't sure he could manage another one as bad as the one he had on the couch.

He knows, of course, that either one of them could be hurt at any time. He always has known. They've been lucky so far; he knows that, too. And he knows that if there is any trouble for James tomorrow, he will put himself in between James and whatever the threat is. This is how he cares for people he loves; he protects them.

He thinks he hears his phone buzz at some point in the night, but he can't quite tell if he's dreaming or not.

He wakes early and stares at the ceiling a while, trying to review all the things he has to do this morning before he and James set out for Henley. He hasn't packed yet; he'll have to work out what clothes he wants James to see him in… er, what clothes he wants to take.

He glances at his phone, remembering dimly that he thought it buzzed at some point during the night. He reaches over to see whether it did or not.

James's name and picture appears on the screen. What the–? 

Robbie doesn't even look to see if there's a message. He leaps out of bed and runs to the bedroom door, and then through and into the living-room. "James? James! Are you all right?"

"What? Robbie... what's wrong?" A tousle-headed James drags himself into a seated position and stares at Robbie from clearly unfocused eyes. Right – no contacts. 

"You buzzed me." He holds up his phone. "I thought... dunno what I thought, but it says three-o-nine am. You wouldn't phone me then unless..." He sags against the kitchen counter, feeling breathless.

"I didn't..." Frowning, James starts rummaging around beside himself on the couch, and under the blanket. After a bit, he produces his phone, looking sheepish. "Must have rolled onto it or something during the night. I'm sorry I worried you."

Robbie shakes his head as relief fills him. "Just try not to do it again, eh?" He straightens. "Might as well put the kettle on."

After breakfast, James leaves, promising to be back by two. Robbie wants to ask him to come earlier so that they can have lunch together, but he's afraid that he's already making enough demands on the lad's time. He packs, making sure to take all his new clothes apart from the leather jacket, and dresses in James's favourite, the dark blue shirt and jeans. Then there's nothing to do but wait.

Finally, two o'clock arrives and James is here, looking bloody marvellous in the lavender shirt again, this time paired with skinny jeans. And they're off. 

After all the preparation and anxiety, they don't talk much on the way, at first. James is driving, and once they're out of Oxford he glances at Robbie as he slows at a roundabout. "You okay?"

"Fine. Why wouldn't I be?" Then he remembers the nightmare. "Nah, I'm okay."

James's hand covers his briefly. "Good." After a moment, when he's moving again, he adds, "I'm glad you're with me."

"Me too."

Once they're closer to Henley, James goes over the descriptions of the men he saw outside the Castle Tavern again, and they reconfirm what they both know about the hate group that's expected to disrupt the festival. And then James is pulling into the car park for the Hotel du Vin, their location for the weekend. They've arrived.

James grips his hand as they walk from the car into the hotel reception. Check-in is relatively quick, although there are clearly other festival-goers already here, and then they're going up in the lift to their room, still hand in hand, James pausing to smile fondly at him every so often.

This is it, then – they're officially undercover as a gay couple.

* * *

"Oi," James says lightly, affectionately. "You've got something on your face."

Oh, perfect, just what he needs. Robbie turns to face James. "What–?"

James leans in and gives him a quick peck on the lips, smiling at him affectionately. Robbie smiles and returns the favour, revelling in the open affection.

"Thanks, love," he murmurs.

"You two are bloody adorable!" A younger pair of blokes are looking at them from the corner of the lift; they must've got on while Robbie and James were… otherwise engaged. The shorter of the two is the one who speaks. "You're new, aren't you? A new relationship? I can always tell."

Wonderful. He's got bloody Poirot and Captain Hastings in the lift with him.

"Still feels new, times like this," Robbie says, giving James an affectionate look.

James rests his head against Robbie's, and Robbie can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks. "I told him this would be fun."

"You two should come to the pub tonight. We've got karaoke on, and if there's one thing I know about this group, it's that we can go all night long." The taller one speaks this time, and he gives his shorter partner a suggestive look. "I'm Gary, and this is Evan."

James wraps his arms around Robbie. "I'm James, and this is my Robbie."

_My Robbie_. Robbie feels warm all over at the thought.

"Either of you sing?" Gary asks.

"There's singing, and then there's singing in public," Robbie says.

"Besides," James says, and Robbie can just hear his saucy grin, "we've got better things to do than… sing tonight. Although singing might be involved."

Evan hoots with delighted laughter. "James, you are wicked! I hope we see a lot of you."

"Not more than I see of him," Robbie says indignantly.

"Oh, no," Gary says, wrapping Evan affectionately in his arms. "This is our five-year anniversary, this. So no need to worry."

The lift door opens as they stop on Robbie and James's floor, and James winks at Evan and Gary. "Nice to meet you – we'll see you later if we're not too busy." He squeezes Robbie's arse. "Come on, lover. We've got a bedroom to explore."

"Cheeky sod," Robbie murmurs as they walk down the hallway, but he still grips James's hand.

"Nothing stopping you reciprocating," James points out, barely hiding laughter.

Oh, it's like that, is it? Robbie halts suddenly, drops his duffel-bag and turns to James, then shoves him back against the wall. He moves in closer, closer, until their bodies are pressed together, then reaches up to pull James's head lower. James's arms come around him and then they're kissing again, this time deeply and as if they can't get enough of each other. 

_Christ!_ Robbie just about has enough awareness and common sense left to tilt his hips away from James. If the bloke felt what this kiss is doing to him... 

James breaks the kiss, and he's either genuinely affected by it or doing a good job of acting breathless. "Not that I mind you taking the initiative like that, or kissing where anyone can see us, but we've got a room just a few feet away."

"Right." Robbie turns away, taking a few seconds to try to calm himself as he picks up his bag again. James has already found their room, and he's got the key-card in the door. 

James pushes the door open, and Robbie follows him in, heart beating faster as he waits to see exactly what James booked for them.

Robbie's breath catches as he sees the single large bed in the middle of the room.

James closes the door and then moves close behind Robbie so they won't be overheard. "Sorry," he whispers to Robbie. "Only we're a couple, and it would be strange to request two beds, and if someone noticed…"

"James," Robbie interrupts, turning to look James in the face. "It's fine." He hesitates. "You… haven't minded being a bit close on the couch. If… if you don't…" He stops. He can't bloody ask for this. Even if he had the right words, he wouldn't know which order they were meant to come in.

James rests a gentle hand on Robbie's shoulder. "You could do with a cuddle?" he asks, and his voice has the same gentle tone as it did when he woke from his nightmare.

Robbie nods, suddenly nervous. "If you don't mind," he murmurs.

"You already know I don't," James says, running his hand along Robbie's arm. "It'll be just the same as being at your flat, only we'll be watching telly and close to each other in bed instead of on the couch."

Robbie nods. Put like that, it doesn't sound too different from what they've been doing. Feels a bit different though. "Yeah."

"So," James says, stowing his things in the corner, "how do you like the room, new relationship partner?" A smile tugs at his lips.

"I couldn't believe he said that," Robbie grouses.

"Were you interested in the karaoke, or did you want to spend a quiet night in?" James asks.

How the hell does he respond to that? 

If they really were a couple, then he knows what he'd want. No way would they be leaving this room this evening. He wants to kiss James again, kiss him until neither of them has breath left in their bodies. He wants to unbutton that form-fitting shirt James is wearing, and run his hands over the smooth skin and hard muscles underneath. And have James do the same to him.

But they're not a couple, and if they stay here... well, sooner or later he's going to give himself away.

"We're here to catch some homophobic bastards," he says, keeping his voice low. "Staying here won't do much about that, will it?"

"True." James nods, entirely the detective again. "And, since we want to draw their attention, we should be... noticeable. Are you okay with that?"

"Drawing attention to ourselves, you mean?"

"Mmm. The more flamboyant and outrageous the better. So you'd better tell me now what your limits are."

His limits? What on earth is he supposed to say here? "It'd help if I had an idea of what you're thinking."

"Right." James moves closer so that they can talk openly. "Obviously, kissing and touching – and at something like this... well, let's say that public indecency doesn't bother people much." Robbie's eyes widen. "I'm not talking about public sex or full-blown nudity," James adds quickly. "But... well, touching can get pretty intimate. And then there's simulation, often very public." 

Bloody hell. If he and James do any of that, then it's not going to take much at all for James to realise that Robbie's not pretending in the least.

"The other possibility, since I can see that makes you uncomfortable," James says, his gaze dipping to the floor, "is the karaoke. We could do something ridiculous and flamboyant, like performing YMCA. I did bring some things..." He turns away and opens his case. Robbie's eyes widen again as the bloke produces a pink feather boa and a leather waistcoat.

Robbie looks at the items for a moment. Then he chuckles to himself, tipping his head to one side in a wry 'what have I got meself into?' motion.

"You fancy the boa or the waistcoat?" he asks.

James regards them both thoughtfully. "I think the temptation to see you in a pink feather boa is simply too great, Robbie." He holds out the pink feathery nightmare.

Robbie takes it. Here goes. "D'you wear it like a scarf?"

James fights back a smile. "You can."

Robbie drapes it round his shoulders, then tosses one end over his shoulder with flair. "There. That attention-seeking enough for you?"

James is trying very, very hard not to laugh. "Brilliant, thanks."

Robbie rests his hands on his hips. "And when do I get to see you in your leather waistcoat? More importantly, is it worn over your shirt or instead of?"

James tips his head to one side, looking playful. "Which would my significant other prefer?"

Robbie feels himself blush. "I dunno... I mean, what would look best?"

James thinks for a moment, then bends down to his suitcase again and pulls out a T-shirt. Without hesitation, he unbuttons the lavender shirt and strips it off, passing it to Robbie. Robbie looks at the shirt for a moment, then realises James intended him to hang it up. When he turns back to James, the lad's wearing a lavender T-shirt with two interlinked rainbow gay male symbols – there's got to be a name for those, but Robbie's got no bloody idea what it is – and the slogan _I'm not gay, but my boyfriend is_. "All right?" James asks.

"Yeah, well, you'll fit in fine," Robbie almost stammers. "Are you sure I won't look too... straight?"

James squeezes his arm. "You'll be fine. Not everyone goes overboard on the way they dress. Besides, the boa looks good on you." He grins, then turns suddenly and walks to the side of the bed. In another sudden movement, he flings himself face-down on the quilt, and proceeds to bounce up and down vigorously.

"What on earth...?" Robbie stares at him. Has the lad gone mad? But then James stops and beckons to him. Robbie comes closer, and then, because James points to the space next to him on the bed, moves to lie down next to the bloke.

"Thought I should test the springs and headboard," James murmurs, not sounding at all like someone who's just lost his mind. "See what potential there is for noise."

"Seemed quiet to me."

"Yes. Which makes it easier." James rolls over and leans up on his elbow. "If there was a lot of squeaking and banging, we'd need to... um... bounce around a bit later to sound convincing. Now, we probably only need to moan a bit."

Robbie feels himself go pink again. "Right, yeah. Didn't think of that."

James nods. "We should go in a few minutes. It's early for the karaoke, but it'd be a good idea to wander around the town. There'll be things going on all over the place, so we need to see what's where and get our bearings – and that's what a couple like us would do anyway."

"Right. But we'll also be looking out for any sign of unwelcome guests."

"Mmm. James slides his free hand across to touch Robbie's fingertips. "We need to agree again on what's acceptable touch, all right? Given what I said about 'anything goes'. What I suggest is that you take the lead. Touch me any way you feel comfortable with – and if you do it to me, I'll assume it's okay to do it to you. Is that okay?"

Robbie nods, hoping that he doesn't look as awkward as he feels. Christ – this is going to be torture.

"There's just one thing," James adds, and suddenly he sounds embarrassed. "I might... have a... physical reaction to... some things. It'll probably be the environment as much as you touching me. Please don't worry, or think I'm gonna... do something that would cross the line," he adds in a rush – and then smirks through his very pink expression. "Your virtue really is safe with me."

Robbie isn't sure whether to be hurt that James is saying something that basically boils down to, "Don't worry if I get aroused; it's not because I fancy _you_ ," or relieved that James has offered him something of an excuse himself. He settles for the latter, as the former won't do any good.

"Yeah," Robbie says, nodding a bit. "If I… erm… if I get excited… that's… you can just assume the same."

James gives him a startled look. "Really?"

Robbie feels a pang of anxiety. Has he said too much? "You said yourself…"

James nods. "Yeah, I know, but…" He blushes again. "I didn't think… I mean… I just assumed you were straight."

Join the club. But Robbie isn't going to get into that now… doesn't want to get into that now.

"You try being on the other end of one of your kisses sometime," he says wryly, trying to frame it as… not a joke, exactly, but light-hearted and that. "I defy anyone not to have a… physical reaction."

James went red, but he also looked… a bit flattered. "Thank you. I think."

Robbie nods. "It was a compliment. Meant to be, anyway." His boa is slipping and he flips it back over his shoulder as though it were an unruly scarf.

James begins to laugh.

"What?" Robbie demands.

"Nothing, just…" James shakes his head. "It's so incongruous from what I know of you, but that move… you look like you've been wearing boas all your life."

"I'm thinking of it as a feathery scarf," Robbie admits.

"Sound," James says with a grin. "Very sound."

Robbie feels a bit of nervousness in the pit of his stomach. Honestly, the closest thing he can liken it to is being a newlywed. Except, in this case, it's a bit more nerve-wracking because there's been no agreement that they're genuinely married. 

He slips an arm round James's waist. "Ready for a ramble, love?"

James's arm slides around Robbie's shoulders, as Robbie had known it would. "Let's see what we can see, darling."

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

Outside, the streets are filled with people now: couples and groups, laughing and chatting, kissing and hugging, and obviously enjoying themselves. Men, women and some not immediately identifiable as either; some dressed outrageously, and some looking as normal as Robbie does himself. Well, as he would if he weren’t wearing the boa. 

Music is streaming from some of the pubs and shops they pass, as well, and Robbie can’t help wondering what Henley’s usual residents think of what’s happening this weekend. The average age of the town’s probably reduced by fifteen years or more this weekend thanks to the visitors, and your typical blue-rinsed Tory would be horrified by the goings-on. Good, he can’t help thinking. About time some people had their attitudes and prejudices shaken up.

As they stroll, James’s arm still securely around Robbie’s shoulders, every so often they pause to browse a stall, look at the entertainment on offer at one of the venues, or take a flyer from one of the festival organisers or exhibitors. It also allows them to observe, take note of anything out of the ordinary or anyone who might look suspicious.

They’re turning a corner when James leans in and nuzzles Robbie’s ear. “Straight across the road, outside the bookshop – plain-clothes copper. Could he look any more obvious?”

Casually, Robbie glances towards the bookshop. “Looks like Linton’s the one who should have practiced blending in. His team bloody needs lessons.” 

“Could be local boys, I suppose.” James lets his lips trail across Robbie’s cheek. 

“Maybe.” Robbie nods at a nearby pub. “Pint? We can look at this lot–” He gestures at the flyers and programmes in his hand. “–and decide where we think we should be.”

“Makes sense.” They head for the pub, and just as Robbie’s about to open the door a couple exits – two women, one in a boiler-suit and the other in a maid’s outfit. They pause in the doorway to kiss deeply before moving on. “They’ve got the right idea,” James says, laughing, and leans in to kiss Robbie lingeringly. “Since you said you like my kisses,” he murmurs as he pulls back. 

Christ, he does. Even if the touching and cuddling carries on after this job’s over, he’s going to miss the kissing. So maybe he should take advantage of this situation as much as he can while it lasts… 

“I do,” he growls, in the knowledge that James will accept it as part of their cover, and reaches up to press his lips against James’s again, hard and demanding. With an indecipherable sound, James kisses back.

“Get a room!” someone yells, and they break the kiss – and all Robbie hears is James’s pure, unembarrassed and _joyful_ laugh.

The sound touches his heart in a way nothing has done for a while. He's never heard James so happy… never seen James so happy. He wants this never to end. He wants to stay in this moment and keep James here with him and never have to leave.

"You know I," Robbie whispers, but he's never been one for words, and they don't come to him now. Instead he just rubs James's chest with one hand, needing to show his affection some way.

James's arms fold around him. "I know."

Robbie wonders if James does. He's not entirely sure what he was going to say himself. _You know I love you? You know I'd do anything for you?_ They're both true enough.

Maybe after this weekend… maybe Robbie ought to tell James. Just to clear the air. He won't push. But… he never says anything important, or he feels as though he doesn't, and maybe he should sometimes.

Instead he takes the end of his feather boa and tickles James's face with it. James responds by sneezing.

"You should watch where you put that thing," James says.

Robbie gives James a playful smile. "Not what you said last night, love."

James waggles his eyebrows and gives Robbie a grin, and it takes years off the lad. Robbie slips his arm through James's and they walk into the pub together.

James inclines his head toward the display of green carnations for sale at the bar. "Want one?"

Robbie looks at the display. "What does it mean?"

"Well, the story is that wearing a green carnation was a secret sign of homosexuality in the days of Oscar Wilde, despite the fact that the historical evidence for that is uncertain," James says. "The idea was popularised by Noel Coward as much as anyone, who wrote a song making reference to it in one of his operettas. 'And as we are the reason for the Nineties being gay, we all wear a green carnation’."

Robbie nuzzles James's shoulder with his cheek. "Have I ever told you I love when you do that?"

James gives him a startled look. "Do what?"

"Know some odd little historical alleyway and tell me about it. I really enjoy hearing all the things you know." This is all true. Robbie does. And they're in the perfect place for him to say such a thing without it seeming strange or overemotional.

"Really?" The tips of James's ears are crimson, and he looks a bit shy. "Thank you."

Robbie takes James by the hand, giving him his best come-hither look and guiding him to a booth where they can look out on the street and still have a bit of privacy for strategising.

Once James comes back with their drinks, they get down to work. To anyone else, they're normal festival-goers deciding which events appeal to them most. What they're actually doing is applying criteria they'd already agreed on, and discussed by phone with Linton, to work out where they think it most likely that they'll run into troublemakers. 

The pub that's running the karaoke is a good bet; it'll be busy and there'll be a lot of movement around the place. The pub's website also shows several doors, as well as a back patio. Easy for people to get in and out without being noticed, until they want to be.

There's one thing that Robbie wants to make clear, and he's doing it as much as James's mate as he is as the lad's boss. "Don't be a hero," he says, mouth close to James's ear. "If you see anything, use the signal. Call for assistance. I don't want you getting hurt again, pet."

James's hand, resting on Robbie's lap, tightens. "I know. Don't want you getting hurt either."

Robbie presses a kiss to James's jaw. "So we stay together, and stay safe."

James tilts his head and kisses Robbie quickly. "Not letting you out of my sight."

Robbie laughs. "You'll have to, at least for five minutes. Need to pee."

James grins and lets him go. As Robbie's coming out of the loo a few minutes later, though, a man of around his own age is entering. He nods civilly at the bloke and holds the door open for him, and the man starts to nod in return – and then his expression changes. "Disgusting sodomite," he almost spits, venom in his tone, shoving past Robbie.

What...? It takes Robbie a moment or two to recover from the unexpected attack. The boa, he concludes. Has to be. As he weaves his way through the now-crowded pub back to James, he's deep in thought. Is this what it's like to be gay? Is this the sort of behaviour gay people – _people like James!_ – can expect on a routine basis? Maybe it's better than it used to be ten or even five years ago, but it's still not right.

He doesn't mention it to James; there's no point. But he notices the bloke from the loo a few minutes later, passing near their table on his way back to his own table. Deliberately, Robbie leans towards James, pressing a hand to the lad's face, and kisses him deeply.

"That was... nice," James murmurs as Robbie moves away. "I get the feeling there was something else behind it, though."

"Oh, just giving a bigot something to think about." James's eyebrows raise. "Don't think he's who we're after," Robbie adds quietly. "Just someone who needs to learn to keep his opinions to himself."

"I love how outraged you get when other people are cruel," James says. "It's just one of the things that make you the loveliest person I know."

Robbie has to kiss him again for that, and yet again silently thanks the undercover operation that allows him to do it.

They leave the pub a bit later, in search of somewhere to eat; James has the address of an Indian restaurant that's a street or two away from where they are. They're passing the tourist information centre when James pauses by a Stonewall information stand. Robbie stops as well, looking to see what's caught James's eye. He seems to be looking at leaflets explaining the new gay marriage law, _So you want to get married?_

Robbie stills, and for a few moments he's barely able to breathe. He never even considered that possibility, and he should have. James had said he'd been to the Castle Tavern with ‘a friend’, after all. What if he's already in a serious relationship, and has just been keeping it secret?

He must've got tense physically, because James turns to look at him. "What's wrong?"

Robbie is scrambling to cover his worry. "No, nothing."

James gives him a lopsided smile. "Don't worry."

"Worry," Robbie repeats, trying to get his mental bearings. "Why would I?"

"I'm not going to try to convince you to marry me," James says, nudging Robbie's arm with his gently, playfully.

"Why not?" The damning words are out before Robbie can think twice or draw them back.

James looks confused. Robbie can't blame him; he's confused enough himself. He only knows that the idea of losing James frightens him as the idea of losing Val had when she was alive… and that tells him something, doesn't it? He feels completely naked. There's no pretence hiding him from James at this moment. It's just him. He is clutching James's hand as though that's the only thing keeping him alive.

"You've never said anything about it," James says, and his tone could either be the bewildered tone of a man who's surprised by his partner's sudden interest in marriage or the tentative attempt of someone undercover to find out what the hell his partner is talking about.

"I'm sorry," Robbie says, eyes downcast. "I wasn't thinking." That much is true. Even without looking at James, he can feel the puzzlement emanating from the bloke.

"What brought this on?" James asks quietly.

Robbie tries to think of a convincing lie and fails. "I… I just…" He shakes his head, and repeats what he already said. "I'm sorry."

James's hands rest on Robbie's shoulders, and Robbie can feel James waiting to meet his gaze. He reluctantly lifts his eyes, expecting to see confusion or irritation or coldness… but he sees none of those things. He sees sympathy and affection and warmth.

"I'm not going to leave you," James says.

For a moment, the shock stuns Robbie, leaving him unable to respond in any way. Then Robbie nods, ashamed that he's so transparent. "I know."

"No," James says gently. "I don't think you do. Look at me, Robbie. I'm not going to leave you."

Robbie feels shaky. "Promise?"

James nods. "I promise."

It doesn't matter if it's true or not. Robbie has to believe it is. The alternative is too painful.

James brushes his fingertips across Robbie's cheek. "Are you all right to go on?"

Robbie nods. "Yeah. But maybe you'd better take the lead for a bit."

James wraps his arm around Robbie's shoulders again as they walk on in silence. In Robbie's case, he's simply not able to speak. What was he thinking? No – he wasn't thinking, and that's the problem. He's a stupid bloody old fool. What the hell must James be thinking now? That his boss needs to retire, that's beyond doubt.

If they weren't in the middle of an undercover op, with their covers already established, he'd make his excuses and go home. James would be better off without him.

"Robbie." James shakes him a little, and he blinks, just now noticing their surroundings. They're in a small laneway, with a large skip between them and the street. 

"Where...? What-"

"Thought we could do with some privacy." James moves them so that they're out of view of any passers-by. "So we can talk properly – no covers, no misunderstandings."

"Makes sense." Robbie stares down at the ground. This is it, then. James is going to tell him that he's figured out what Robbie really wants, and he's either going to let him down gently, or bluntly tell him that he no longer wants to work with him.

"I know what's really going on." James's voice is soft. Robbie still doesn't dare to look at him. "It just dawned on me now. Sorry I've been so slow to realise."

"Wish you hadn't worked it out," Robbie says under his breath. Christ. Isn't there any way he can get out of here?

A warm hand lands on his shoulder. "We need to get this out in the open – I don't know about you, but it's been hard sometimes working out what's pretence and what's real." Robbie nods. "I meant it, Robbie. I won't leave you. I know you'll retire in a year or so, but I don't want that to mean we'd stop being friends. Being... close."

"I don't either," he whispers. Bloody hell, how long is James going to make him wait for the guillotine to drop? _I'll be your friend, but that's all it is. Get any thoughts of anything else out of your head_. Is that what he's going to say? Though it could be worse. If he's still willing to be friends...

"I should have realised," James continues. "You lost your – Val. And... I don't know, maybe I'm presuming, but it seems... plausible... that you feel closer to me than anyone else since she died. And I don't know if you're scared that I'll die, or that we'll drift apart, but I want you to know that I meant it. I will not leave you."

The enormous lead weight that's been submerged in Robbie's stomach since his idiocy a few minutes ago starts to dissipate. James hasn't realised. He doesn't know what's really going on inside Robbie's head. It's safe. "Thank you," he manages, around what he hadn't realised was another lead lump in his throat.

"It's not just you," James says, and he moves closer, pulling Robbie into a hug. "I don't want to lose you either. You're... honestly, I don't think you have any idea, but you're the best thing that's _ever_ happened to me. And I've been wondering – hoping, really – when you do retire, would you consider getting a flat with me?"

Robbie closes his eyes and holds on tight. How did he get so lucky? How in the world did he get so bloody lucky? James doesn't want to lose him. He's… he's important to James. So much so that… James wants to move in. He wants them to live together.

_Not as a couple, mind_ , the part of his brain still able to reason a bit reminds him. _Just as flatmates. Friends_.

Yeah, but friends that occasionally cuddle a bit. James already said that was all right. And he wants them to live together, which could mean more closeness more of the time.

"I can't tell what you're thinking," James says, and he sounds a bit nervous.

"Course I want you to move in with me," Robbie says. "Of course we… we should get a flat. I want to. I never would've asked… you know that… but…"

"Well, maybe you should ask sometimes," James says warmly. "The answer might surprise you."

Robbie smiles a bit. "I'll keep that in mind." He pauses. "What we talked about last night – going on holiday together – was that something you really want to do, or…?"

James looks amused. "Robbie, I just asked you to move in with me. I think going on holiday together is something of a given."

Is it? Robbie is…new to these types of negotiations. Hell, it's been a long time since he courted anyone. He pats James's back and gives him a fond look. "Glad to hear it."

James smiles at him. "Ready to move on?"

Robbie takes a deep breath and nods. "Thank you for this." _For taking care of me_.

James takes his hand and gives it a squeeze.

* * *

They arrive back at the pub in plenty of time for karaoke. Robbie is feeling more relaxed and a bit more himself again, and he tosses his boa over his shoulder the way that makes James smile. (It still makes James smile. Robbie may or may not have noticed this and may or may not be playing with his boa a bit more than he ordinarily would to continue to make James smile.)

"Oi! Lovebirds! Over here!" It's Gary and Evan, gesturing them to a table.

"Want to?" James asks.

Robbie nods. "Seems they know everyone. They might be able to give us some useful information." And they won't mind if Robbie and James are a bit… what was the word James used? Flamboyant?

"Like the T-shirt," Evan says as James and Robbie join them. "And, Robbie, _nice_ boa!"

Robbie flicks it over his shoulder again. "I think pink's my colour – right, pet?"

James ruffles his hair. "Course it is, love. Drinks?" he asks to the group as a whole.

When James comes back – with a tray of garish cocktails – Gary immediately asks about the karaoke. James looks at Robbie, eyebrow raised, and Robbie shrugs. "We're thinking about it."

Gary sips his cocktail and plays with the swizzle-stick. "Oh yeah? Anything in particular?"

James grins. "Well, if you two will join us, and if no-one else gets there first, we thought we might try YMCA. Well, there's _It's Raining Men_ , too, but I'm not sure my limited range could do it."

"YMCA sounds good." Evan jumps to his feet. "I'll sort it. Hang onto those cocktail umbrellas, yeah? We can use them."

And so, fifteen minutes later, the four of them are up on the stage, stamping and shouting their way through YMCA. It's one of the most ridiculous things Robbie's ever done – and yet right now, with James's arm around him and the two of them bumping hips as they stamp and sing, he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

At the same time, though, he's scanning the pub, and he knows without even having to look that James is doing the same. Most of the patrons seem to be just what they should be: men and women enjoying a festival and having a good time. But in a corner, tucked away behind a post near the loos, there are three or four blokes in their twenties who Robbie'd swear aren't gay, aren't festival-goers, and aren't enjoying themselves. They're not singing along, and from what he can see they're glowering and muttering among themselves. 

James has seen. As the four of them leave the stage, he stumbles apparently drunkenly against Robbie. "Got to pee," he shouts enthusiastically. "Don't go anywhere without me!" James weaves his way towards the loos, calling greetings to people as he passes. A few minutes later, he's on his way back, equally friendly. He falls into his seat next to Robbie, immediately clinging like an octopus. "Missed you," he says mournfully, and kisses Robbie's ear. "Took a couple of photos with my phone," he says quietly. "They didn't see a thing – and I emailed them to Linton when I was in the loo."

"Good man." Robbie hugs him one-armed, and gives him a sloppy kiss in return. 

"You two are too cute," Evan announces, and sets another round of cocktails in front of them.

* * *

It's close to midnight when the four of them arrive back at the hotel. Evan and Gary have been openly and drunkenly affectionate the whole way, and James and Robbie have done the same. Now, Robbie knows that the hugs at least are real, even if the kisses are just part of the cover. It makes him feel somewhat better about it all.

"Goodnight, you two!" Gary calls in a sing-song voice as they reach James and Robbie's floor. "Don't do anything we wouldn't do!"

"Hope you've got a decent bed – I know what you newbies are like!" Evan adds, grinning widely. 

"And condoms," Gary says, and nudges James hard. "Sleep well!" he adds with a broad wink.

They almost fall out of the lift, they're laughing so hard. "I thought they were going to invite themselves in," James says as they stroll along the corridor.

"They're good company, but no thanks. You're all the company I want now," Robbie tells him. James turns to him and smiles, warm and fond, and squeezes Robbie's hand. 

And then they're alone in the room, and James locks the door.

"I brought pyjamas," Robbie says, apropos of nothing.

James gives him a quizzical look and a slight smile. "So did I."

"No, I mean…" Well, this is a bit too much information, but he's halfway there already. Robbie sighs. "Ordinarily I sleep…" He makes a helpless hand gesture that doesn't indicate what he means in the slightest.

James blushes. "What, nude?"

Robbie nods. "But I knew we'd be sharing so I brought some pyjamas. Mind you… you didn't select them so they're desperately ugly, but…"

"Oh, if you and I are going to have a flat together, there will be pyjama shopping," James says with a grin.

Robbie nods; he's looking forward to it.

Once they've changed into their nightwear (they change tactfully back to back and then give the all-clear once they're dressed again), Robbie turns. He's got on pale blue cotton pyjamas, jacket and trousers both, and James is in his undershirt and shorts.

"Is this all right?" James asks very quietly.

Robbie nods. "Course it is." _You're lovely_. He'd compared them to newlyweds earlier… well, this is too bloody like being newly married. Robbie nods to the bed. "How do you want to…?"

"I'll get in first," James says. "Then you get in and figure out where you're comfortable. As with other things, I'm perfectly happy to do whatever you like."

Robbie nods. "Thanks."

When they are both beneath the covers, Robbie tucks himself gently against James's side, feeling shy. James is lying on his back and doesn't seem to mind what Robbie's doing, so Robbie embraces James with both arms, and James moves his own arm so it's around Robbie.

"I don't bite," James says. "Unless you like that sort of thing."

Robbie shakes his head. "No." He closes his eyes, and in that moment he can feel his body relax against James's. This used to happen with Val too… no matter how worked up Robbie was about what had gone on at work, cuddling with her made all the stress and strain go away. That James can do the same for him isn't surprising at all by now. "Are you comfortable?"

"Yes." James's voice is the barest whisper.

"You can ask for what you want, you know," Robbie murmurs. "It works both ways."

James shifts to his side, and suddenly his arms are around Robbie, pulling him close and holding him there. Strong and silent… that's James. And, as with nearly everything James has done tonight, it makes things that much better. Their legs are touching, and suddenly Robbie is keenly aware of James's body, which is separated from his only by two thin layers of fabric. That's better too, though he'd never mention that particular detail to James.

As if he's just read Robbie's mind, James whispers, "That's better."

"Goodnight, James," Robbie murmurs.

It's clearly his imagination, but as he's drifting slowly to sleep, he thinks he hears James whisper, "Goodnight, my Robbie."

* * *

Robbie wakes feeling warm and cocooned, in a way he hasn't in near ten years, and for a moment he thinks he's still dreaming. If he's dreaming, then it's okay to cuddle closer and wake up the body in his arms with kisses and touches, and he starts to do that, seeking out Val's... no, _James's_ lips with his.

And that's when he realises. James. _Shit_.

It's one thing James letting him hold him in bed – and the lad seems to like it too, which is nice. It's another thing taking advantage of the situation. 

And another still letting James realise that he's woken with a... physical reaction to being this close. Bloody hell.

As gently as he can, Robbie extricates himself from James's arms and rolls over, then eases out of the bed. It's going on eight o'clock, so it's probably time he should be getting up anyway.

"Wha... Robbie?" James rolls over as well and opens bleary eyes to look at him. 

Robbie pulls a face. "Loo."

"Ah." James buries his face in his pillow again. "Come back to bed after, love."

Robbie's heart starts racing, but he makes himself calm. The lad's half-asleep still. He's confusing pretence and reality, that's all it is.

And speaking of pretence, he remembers while in the bathroom, James had said something earlier yesterday about... moaning. Making appropriate sounds to simulate sex. Hell. It's just as well for his sanity that James forgot all about it last night.

He decides to shower and shave while he's at it. It'll give James time to wake up properly, and give him an excuse not to get back into bed. By the time he's ready, James will need to get up anyway – they'd decided yesterday to go to a talk on responses to homophobia this morning at half-past nine. They hadn't really imagined that the people they're looking for would be there but, as James had said, it could be interesting and even useful.

Which reminds Robbie: they should check to see whether James has had anything from Linton since last night.

He pads back into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his hips; he should have thought to bring clothes with him, underwear at the very least.

James sits up, hair rumpled and lower lip sticking out in a pout. "You didn't come back to bed."

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

It's the sight of James that does it. James, sitting there, looking all rumpled from having been in bed… no, even better, having been in his bed. Robbie shivers involuntarily.

"You're cold," James says, making a 'come here' gesture. "Let's warm you up."

Robbie knows it's a bad idea. But does that stop him? Oh, no. Far from it. He crosses hesitantly to the bed, sitting on its edge. "I've just showered. Me hair's still wet."

James crawls across the bed and hugs Robbie to him, Robbie's back to his chest, James's chin perched on Robbie's shoulder. "You should've got me up. I like showers."

Robbie has half a mind to close his eyes and see if he's dreaming. The idea of standing under the hot water with James… naked and wet…

… and bloody hell, he needs to stop thinking about that now or he's going to be in serious trouble. 

He gently disentangles himself from James. "I need to get dressed, love."

"There's no hurry," James says. "Is there?"

Robbie whips round to face him. "H-how do you mean?"

James gets out of bed and crosses to Robbie, taking him in his arms. "I like to hold you."

Robbie is keenly, almost painfully aware that he is only wearing a towel, with nothing underneath. Even knowing that, he still melts into James's embrace. When did this get so easy… so comfortable… so familiar? He hugs James in return, but all he seems to be able to notice now are the lithe muscles in James's back, and how they shift against his hands when James changes position. Or the way James's body feels pressed close against his.

"I like to hold you," Robbie whispers, "and be held by you." Especially now, with James so rumpled and sleepy, with his hair all askew and his eyes soft and his mouth kissable and his body so warm and close and bloody fantastic…

_Shit_.

Robbie backs away awkwardly. He wants to hide, to find something to cover his lap, but the damage is already done. They were so close that James must've felt it. "I'm sorry…"

James tilts his head and smiles slightly. "Was that yours, mine, or both?"

Robbie swallows and tries to calm his rapidly-beating heart. What's James saying? That it isn't just Robbie who... wants? 

Detectives don't assume. They ask. He takes a deep, heaving breath. "You don't mind?"

James's smile widens. "Why would I?" He extends a hand. "Come back here. Let me show you..."

He could. Of course he could. It's more than tempting. But then what? They... take care of each other, here and now? And what about when they're back in Oxford, back to their normal lives? Does James want exactly what Robbie wants?

"Nobody has to know," James continues softly. "We don't even have to talk about it ever again, if you don't want to."

_No_. The disappointment's so crushing that it actually hurts. They don't want the same thing – but then, why did he ever imagine that James would? Yes, he wants them to be friends and flatmates, but no more – and it's not as if Robbie's not been throwing out more than enough signals that he'd be open to more, even if he's not had the nerve to come out and say it.

He takes a deep breath. "No. I don't want–" A one-off, a furtive mutual wank in a hotel room that neither of them will talk about again, that's not part of a loving, long-term relationship with someone he loves. But he can't say that. "I... look, we've got a job to do," he says instead, and hates the way James's expression immediately closes off, the way the lad turns away, shoulders slumped, and then walks stiffly to his suitcase and selects clothes for the day. The way he walks into the bathroom without a word, shutting the door firmly behind him.

_Robbie Lewis, you stupid fucking–_

His phone rings. It's Linton. The photos James sent match suspect photographs on the NPC and the hate-crimes database. The people they saw in the pub last night are known anti-gay activists, with previous convictions for violence and ABH. Linton wants them out, on the streets and attending events, watching for potential suspects and ready to act on the first sign of trouble.

* * *

James emerges from the bathroom some time later, and Robbie fills him in on the Linton stuff. James doesn't seem… cold, exactly. That's not the right word. Nor remote either. He just seems… defeated. As though the fight's gone out of him some way.

"James," Robbie begins, "I didn't…"

"It's okay," James says, in a firm tone that means he does not want the subject broached again. "It's fine."

It isn't okay and it isn't fine. Robbie doesn't have to be schooled in the ways of James Hathaway to know that. He opens his mouth to say something else, but James cuts him off with, "We should go."

The strange thing is that touch isn't strange. If anything, James seems to be closer to him, touching him more, holding hands more urgently. What sort of sense does that make? Robbie can't work it out, and frankly, he hasn't got the time to, not now.

They're walking along the street when they see the blokes from the pub last night skulking in an alleyway across the street from them, watching the passersby. James pretends to receive a text and takes out his phone; Robbie leans in to kiss his cheek (and murmur in his ear). "Linton?"

James nods. "Telling him where we are and they are, and telling him to get his men over here now because there's going to be an attack."

Robbie looks at James. "You want to provoke them."

James nods. "I think we have a better chance of defending ourselves than whoever they would choose to take advantage of otherwise."

It's a risk. Robbie doesn't like taking risks, and he doesn't like James taking risks especially. But he won't let him do it alone.

"Be careful," Robbie whispers.

James gives him a wistful look. "You too." 

And he leans in and kisses Robbie. The kiss is desperate and sad, and feels like a goodbye.

Suddenly, they are wrenched apart. Robbie defends himself as best he can, but they get in one or two punches because he is turning his head trying to see James. They are focusing more of their attention on James, probably because he's young and tall. Two of them are holding James's arms, and one is getting ready to hit him somewhere undefended.

It’s his nightmare all over again. And it’s not going to happen. Not while Robbie’s alive and well and able to stop it.

Robbie elbows his assailant in the face, putting him temporarily out of commission, and puts himself in between James and the bastard about to hit him. "No."

Apparently he's confused the yob, who stares at him. "What?"

"Robbie, don't," James whispers.

Robbie is breathing heavily and he knows he must look a picture. But he doesn't care. He just needs to buy them a little bit of time. That's all. Just a bit.

"Last person I loved was killed by someone stupid like you," Robbie says, venom in his words. "Someone stupid and careless who did his damage and ran away. I'm not letting it happen again. You deal with me first. Because you're not touching him until I'm too badly hurt to get in your way."

The man seems to consider Robbie's words for a moment, then nods. "All right." He lunges for Robbie.

Robbie readies himself for a bit of violence, but then, seemingly out of nowhere, one of Linton's men tackles the man readying to attack Robbie, and others subdue the men who are holding James, and the one Robbie managed to bash in the nose with his elbow.

Robbie has never been so glad to see backup in his entire life.

But even backup isn't enough. Suddenly, it seems as if dozens of reinforcements are here – reinforcements of thugs. They're carrying weapons – tyre levers, chains, pieces of wood with nails in them – and chanting vile anti-gay slogans. And they're everywhere.

In a matter of seconds, he can't even see James any more. He's ducking and fighting and struggling not to get knocked out or even killed, and all the time, at the forefront of his mind, is _James_. Where is he? Is he all right? Is Robbie going to lose him, too?

His arm's throbbing and he's pretty sure he's bleeding from somewhere on his head, but he keeps looking, shoving past people wherever he can, trying to find James. There's so much shouting he can't even hear himself think, let alone hear James if the lad was trying to call out to him. 

Someone kicks him, hard, in the back of his knees, and he tumbles to the ground. He manages to roll over as he falls, so that he's not face-down, but already there's an enormous thug bending down, tyre-lever in hand, aiming a blow for Robbie's head. He tries to move to the side, but he knows he hasn't got time...

...and then the thug's knocked roughly down, and all Robbie can see is a flash of blond hair as a foot aims a sharp kick at the thug's hand, making him let go of his weapon. Robbie, recovering quickly, leans across and grabs it, and James extends a hand to pull him to his feet. "You all right?" James shouts in his ear.

"Yeah. Thanks." 

And then uniformed police are there, subduing and arresting the rioters, and Robbie and James are able to make their way, carefully and still having to duck as the final few fights are quelled, to the sidelines. It's then that Robbie realises that James is steering him towards an ambulance. "I'm fine," he protests.

"You're bloody not! You're barely able to move your arm, and your head's streaming blood." He can hear the anger in James's voice, but recognises the fear beneath. While he'd normally argue and insist he doesn't need medical attention, he'll go along with it now, for James.

The next few hours go by in a blur; his arm is dressed and put in a sling – bad bruising and a possible sprained wrist, and he's recommended to go to hospital but refuses – and a cut on the head that just gets a large plaster. He and James report to Linton's local HQ and give statements, and wait around to watch the reports come in. In all, more than thirty rioters and troublemakers are arrested, and some of them are willing to make statements naming ringleaders. 

And then, finally, they're able to go. "Bet you'll be glad to get back to Oxford and to normal," Linton says, patting Robbie on the shoulder. "No more pretending to kiss the living daylights out of each other, eh?"

"Right," James says, and his tone's abrupt.

"Come on." Robbie touches James's arm, and they leave the station. Back to the hotel first, of course, to change out of their torn and stained clothes, and pack their things. And will James want to leave immediately? The room's booked for another night, but why would he want to stay? Especially after Robbie shut him down like that earlier. And, Christ, now he's wishing he'd taken the lad up on his _What happens in Henley stays in Henley_ offer.

They don't even touch on the way back, nor on the way up to their hotel room. Robbie's aching to, but James is so quiet and distant that he doesn't dare. So this is it, then. Back to normal – but not the new normal they'd developed together over this last week. 

Feeling as if his heart's breaking all over again, Robbie turns away from James, intending to get some clean clothes. 

But James touches his arm. "Robbie?" His voice sounds... wrong, somehow. Robbie turns back. There's a wild-eyed look on James's face, and he reaches for Robbie, pulling him roughly, almost desperately, into his arms. "Sorry," James says, the word sounding torn from him. "I know we're not pretending any more, but I have to... I was so afraid you'd be..." Breaking off, he clings to Robbie as if he never wants to let go.

Robbie wastes no time in embracing James with his good arm, holding on tight to him. "Oh, James," he whispers, kissing his cheek instinctively.

"I'm sorry," James whispers again, and he's shaking now, trembling as he holds Robbie so tightly.

"No!" Robbie says quietly. "No, don't… don't ever be sorry. I… I felt the same, lad… I couldn't…" He moves his hand to stroke James's hair gently. "I was frightened for you too."

James stays where he is for a moment, soaking in the comfort, holding Robbie as if to reassure himself that he's still alive, still breathing. "My Robbie," he whispers.

Robbie feels as if his heart stutters in his chest. "You did say it," he whispers. "Last night. I thought it was… wishful thinking."

"Wishful…?" James looks at him for a moment, not understanding. "You wanted me to have said it?"

Robbie nods. There is too much inside him to say, and as always with that sort of moment, he finds he can't say anything.

"When you were…" James's breath catches, but he carries on. "When you were sticking up for me. You said Val was the last person you loved. Which would mean that I… that I'm…" James is clearly in turmoil, but he forces himself to go on, and when he speaks, his voice is vulnerable and pleading. "Were you pretending?"

Robbie could lie. But he's nearly had his eyes crossed with pretence over the past few days. He's going to tell the truth, even if it means… Well. "No. I meant every word."

"But this morning," James whispers. "You said you didn't want…"

"I didn't want to make love to you and pretend it never happened," Robbie says. His voice sounds odd to his own ears… emotional. "I thought… all you wanted was…"

"You thought I was the one who didn't want this getting out," James whispers. "And I thought you were."

Robbie realises the true meaning of what James said… that he was so eager for them to be intimate that he would've done it just this once and never mentioned it… because he thought Robbie wouldn't want to admit to it. Because he thought it would shame or bother Robbie in some way.

"Being with you could never embarrass me," Robbie says firmly. "Do you understand?"

James nods, pressing his lips together tightly. He moves a shaking hand to Robbie's cheek, but he's shaking for a different reason now. "What would you do if I kissed you? Right now… no pretending?"

Robbie looks into James's eyes and says the only truth he knows. "I would kiss you back."

James holds Robbie's face between both hands, and his fingers are trembling. He starts to lean in, and then stops, looking oddly nervous.

"What?" Robbie asks, wanting to reassure the lad, but now feeling anxious himself. "James, it's... I want this too."

"I know. And I'm glad. But I need to be honest with you – there've been too many lies when it mattered, especially from me." He swallows, and the uncertainty in his eyes grows. Robbie gives him an encouraging nod, and James continues. "What would you say if I told you there's never been any pretence? The kisses, the touching, everything... that it was all real?"

All of it? Christ, and all this time... But there's only one way to answer that. "Then I'd say we're both bloody fools, aren't we?"

"We are?"

"Yeah. 'Cause none of it's been pretend for me, not since that first time you kissed me, a week ago." James's eyes widen, complete and utter shock written on his face. "Didn't know before, did I? It never even occurred to me. But then we started touching, an' it was nice – and then you kissed me and it was far, far better than nice."

"Oh," James whispers, and he stares... and then suddenly buries his head in Robbie's shoulder, his entire body shaking. Concerned, Robbie rubs his back – and then realises the lad's laughing.

"Oi!" He pokes James's side. "And for those of us who sometimes don't get the joke?"

James raises his head, mirth written all over his face. "Sorry. It was just... all week I've been trying not to let you know how I really feel, but taking every chance I could get to touch you. Kiss you, over the last couple of days. And it sounds like you were doing exactly the same."

"I was," he admits, and then his lips twitch. "It is sort of funny, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Laura'd get a kick out of it." Robbie shakes his head faintly. "And she'd probably say I'm an idiot and she knew all along."

"You're _my_ idiot," James says fiercely, then adds, faintly uncertain, "Aren't you?"

"If you're mine."

James just looks at him... and kisses him. And, true to his promise, Robbie kisses him back. 

This time, there are no thoughts of being careful, of hiding his true reaction, or of trying not to go too far. Robbie wraps his good arm around his bonny lad, holding him close, deepening the kiss and savouring every second of it, learning the feel and taste of James, discovering what he likes, and what makes him shiver and moan.

And he wants more – much more.

"Come back to bed?" James whispers when they separate, their foreheads still touching. "We can pretend it's still this morning."

"No more pretence," Robbie says. "An' I'd say yes, only..." He pulls back and glances down at himself, then at James. "Think I'd prefer to get showered first. I mean, look at us."

James does, and begins to nod in agreement. Then he looks distinctly thoughtful. "You know, the two aren't mutually exclusive."

Robbie hesitates. "James… I don't know if I can manage it the first time in the shower… I don't know what to do, and…"

"No, I…" James blushes. "I didn't mean we had to make love in the shower. Though if you decided you wanted to… I wouldn't say no. Just that…" He gives Robbie a shy but excited look. "There's no reason we couldn't go in together, is there?"

Robbie shakes his head. "No." There's just one thing worrying him, and he feels like he ought to address it. "Sure you won't change your mind after you see me… in the altogether?"

James's expression softens. "Of course not." He presses a comforting little kiss to Robbie's lips. "Last night I got the chance to know what you felt like. Now I want to know what you look like."

"I might need some help," Robbie says hopefully. "Getting undressed with this thing on my arm."

James grins. "I would be delighted to help."

* * *

It is genuinely helpful to have someone to help in the shower, particularly with his immobilised arm. Any questions he has about his attractiveness to James are quelled when he's completely naked and finds James looking at him with that same admiring look he had in his eyes when he was trying on the leather jacket.

James isn't too bad to look at either. He has to admit that.

Afterward, when they are dry and naked and lying in bed together, Robbie whispers, "I really am going to need your help. I don't know exactly what to do."

James leans close and tugs on Robbie's earlobe gently with his teeth, making Robbie shiver. Then he whispers in Robbie's ear, "Don't worry. I'm an excellent teacher."

As James gives him a slow, simmering kiss, Robbie can definitely believe that.

James pulls back, looking into Robbie's eyes, brushing his hand affectionately through Robbie's hair. "What would you like now?"

Robbie smiles at James, feeling… contented. Happy.

"Just you," Robbie whispers. "Any way you come."

James laughs, and his joyful, real laugh fills the room… and any space that’s left between them.

* * *

They're back at work first thing Monday morning, boxes of cold cases under their arms. Before they can even make it to their shared office, Innocent summons them.

"We were actually going to come and see you, ma'am," Robbie points out as they enter her office. "Just as soon as we'd dropped these off."

"The cases can wait. I can't."

"Yes, ma'am," James says, in that respectful tone of his that's not entirely disguising the smirk beneath. And it's going to be harder to ignore that now, now that he knows the lad so much better, knows the real James beneath the smartarse posh-lad exterior. Now that he's heard James's honest, happy laugh, and had his hands and lips all over him.

"I hear you two did a stellar job in Henley," Innocent continues. "DI Linton was extremely impressed. Those arrests were a significant breakthrough in getting to a very nasty organised gang that's caused trouble around much of the Midlands and the South. He says he doesn't believe he could have done it without you."

Robbie rubs his nose. "I don't think we did much, ma'am. Just identified some possibilities, and set up an opportunity for Linton and his team to move in."

"That's not what Linton says. I understand he intends to ask for commendations. He also says," she adds, now drawing out her words, "that if the two of you ever need a new career, you should go into acting. Apparently, you were extremely convincing as a couple."

"I'm sure we're both glad to hear it," James says, and Robbie doesn't dare to look at him still.

"Actually," Robbie says, "that's why we were coming to see you. We need to make some changes to our personnel records, and thought you should know."

"Oh?" Innocent frowns. "Surely that's just a matter for HR."

"Not in this case." Now, Robbie looks at James, and smiles. His bonny lad smiles back at him. And Innocent's eyes widen.

"Not acting, then?" she enquires dryly.

"Apparently not, ma'am," James answers. "Though DI Linton may well be right in his estimation of our talents. We managed to fool each other for quite a long time, after all."

Innocent looks at them both, her expression long-suffering. "And I suppose if I were to suggest that you should be assigned to different partners you'd both threaten to resign on me?"

Robbie gives her a wry smile and a shrug. James just shuffles his feet and looks at Robbie.

Innocent sighs. "I swear, you two are entirely responsible for the increase in grey hair growth I've had in the last seven or eight years." She shakes her head. "I want your change of emergency contact forms and–" She raises an eyebrow in question. "–change of address forms?" They nod in unison. "On my desk by noon today. Now, get back to work, both of you." 

"As previously assigned, ma'am?" Robbie has to confirm.

"Do you think I'd inflict either of you on anyone else?" she asks testily. "Just go, and try not to trip over anyone else's investigation, if you can possibly help it."

"Thank you, ma'am," Robbie says, hearing James's voice echoing his words.

"And it's about bloody time," he could swear he hears her mutter as they leave the room.

James apparently doesn't hear it. "What was that?" he asks softly, leaning in close to Robbie.

Robbie chuckles, brushing his fingers ever so slightly against James's hand. "I'll tell you at home tonight," he murmurs, not quite daring to add the 'love' or 'pet' he would otherwise tack on to the end of that sentence.

James hears it, though. And he smiles.

* * *


End file.
